Sanctuary
by Kateniss
Summary: <html><head></head>When the Russian regime's new boss makes Samcro an offer they can't refuse, Jax finds himself holed up in the cabin babysitting a mafia princess. In spite of their initial animosity towards the other, their stay at the cabin proves to be a collision with destiny. But as the Putlova family secrets catch up to them, will Jax be able to protect her if it also means risking his club?</html>
1. Prologue

**A/N-So, I've been working on this since the beginning of August, but wanted to wait to post until I had a good amount of chapters ready and a solid outline. Right now, I've got eight updates ready and waiting for you guys and I'm really excited/nervous to see what you think. I'm about half-way through the next update for "Carry You Home", so I'm hoping to have that one ready for you guys soon too. That being said, since I have some chapters banked up, I'm planning on posting once a week every Wednesday (I couldn't wait until tomorrow for this first one!). **

**This prologue will lay the foundation for the rest of the plot and introduce you to the new OC. I've had way too much fun researching the Russian mafia and Russian traditions in general and I hope that translates in this story. Any Russian translations can be found at the end of the chapter for your reference.**

**As it stands, I have plans for about 20 chapters or so of this one in addition to a sequel that I have a pretty good, albeit rough, outline for already. I've got my fingers crossed that you guys will give my new OC a chance. She's definitely a departure from Isabelle, but Jax in this story will also be very different from the way I've written in him the "Carry Your Heart" stories, which has been really refreshing too. I hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>SANCTUARY<strong>

Prologue

"_With lies you may go ahead in the world, but you can never go back."_

_-_Russian Proverb

_Monday, October 7, 2010_

She hadn't gone looking for them. At least, that was what she had to tell herself. No...her mother's deepest, most dangerous secrets had just floated to the ground from behind the ancient vanity in her childhood bedroom, shattering her world and everything she knew about it in the process. All she'd wanted to do was find the picture and then she had every intention of never stepping foot in this godforsaken house ever again.

But, fate, it seemed, had other plans for her today.

Earlier this morning, she'd trudged up the staircase of her father's house, squeezing her eyes shut every time a ghost of a memory flashed before her. The problem was there were just too many painful memories to handle all at once, which was exactly why she avoided this house at every opportunity. For all its ornate, lavish decadence, this house held nothing but pain, disappointment, and death. But today, she wasn't here because her father had summoned her. All she'd wanted was one good, beautiful memory from this house and that was it.

Unfortunately, she'd found something else.

After scouring the near-empty room with its girly pink wallpaper, she'd just about given up. Her eyes skimmed across the length of the room and she had to shake her head at the decor. Years ago, her much-younger self had gleefully pranced around the saccharinely blush room with matching bows in her long hair.

At one point, this room had been her sanctuary from everything in the house: her father's secret 'business' meetings and her parents' ear-splitting, violent fights especially. Now, all this room could give her was the object of her current obsession: a long-forgotten photo of her family when things were good. When they were happy. When her mother was still alive.

She didn't have many pictures from her childhood -her father had destroyed the majority of them after her mother's untimely passing- and although she could clearly remember stealing this picture from an album in her parents' bedroom, she just couldn't remember where she'd hidden it. So, she'd torn through every nook and every surface of her childhood bedroom trying to snuff out where she'd stashed it twelve years before.

Her steps faltered only once. When her fingertips brushed against an old shoebox high in her closet, her shaking hands brought the box down to waist level against her better judgment. There was no need to remind herself what was inside this particular box, but the masochist inside her pulled the cover off anyways to reveal the worn ballet slippers she already knew she would find. But she wasn't here for that and this box was better off hidden away in her closet where it belonged. When she'd moved out of this house several years before, this box had been left behind for good reason and reliving that reason now wasn't going to help her.

Shoving the box back up where it belonged, she swiveled around to survey the room. Finally, her eyes fell on the vanity, where she'd spent countless hours brushing her long dark hair and practicing how to apply eyeliner just right. Now, she desperately hoped the vanity also held a memory she wanted more than anything to find. With frantic, almost reckless abandon, she tore across the plush pink carpeting until her hips all but slammed into the antique vanity.

"Miss Ekaterina?" a familiar voice with its thick Russian accent called out to her.

Kat turned to find her father's housekeeper eyeing her warily from the doorway. "Oh, hey, Rosa."

"Is everything alright, miss?"

She nodded immediately, eager to get this woman away from the door and picked up her feet to head towards it. "I'm fine -I just bumped into the dresser. You know me...biggest klutz in the world, right?"

Rosa nodded slowly, as if she was trying to decide whether or not to believe her and, given that Rosa had never worked for her mother -only her father- Kat couldn't really blame her. After her mother's death, her father had literally cleaned house, firing every hired hand from the gardener, Boris, to the housekeeper Svetlana, her mother's beloved and most trusted confidante within the house.

Seeing the woman who'd read her bedtime stories and patched up every skinned knee unceremoniously escorted out of the house mere days after her mother's funeral had only added to the depths her despair. Her father wasted no time in replacing his entire staff and when Rosa slid into the role of housekeeper, it was without Svetlana's warmth, cheerfulness, and loyalty to her charges. Even at 13, Kat had been aware enough of her surroundings to understand that Rosa reported to no one but her father and therefore, could never be completely trusted.

Given their shaky history, Kat didn't feel as much as a twinge of guilt when she promptly shut the door in Rosa's face. As she stared back at the door, she immediately thought better of just leaving herself vulnerable and her hands were turning the lock before she could stop herself.

_There, _she nodded to herself as she stepped back, _no more interruptions. No more looking over your shoulder. Time to get down to business. _

Now that any prying eyes were out of the way, Kat turned back to the vanity and descended on it once more, her heart thundering wildly in her chest. Some feeling, some intuition told her that she was on the right track, that her 13-year-old self had known her father would never care enough to venture this far into her domain to go searching for something as unimportant as a simple photograph. New frantic eagerness seized her as she yanked open every drawer and rifled through the contents.

Nothing but rusty bobby pins and old bottles of nail polish. Shit.

Kat perched her hands on her hips, brow furrowed in deep concentration, as she mentally retraced her steps from years before. Where in the hell would she have hidden it? She was close...she knew she was close. It was just a matter of finding the damn thing now.

Her eyes snapped to the vanity's mirror and memories of stowing away things she didn't want her father to see behind it flashed across her mind. Bracing her hands along the side of the vanity, she shifted it to the side, careful to make the least amount of noise possible. A slow smile spread across her lips at the array of hidden treasures behind the mirror.

She shook her head with a huff -she'd completely forgotten how stealthy and devious she'd been. Well, the evidence was all there. Notes from boys she wasn't allowed to see. Ticket stubs from concerts she hadn't been allowed to attend. The receipt from the salon when she'd dyed her hair purple. The receipt from the salon when she'd gotten her nose ring -that one in particular had just about sent her father through the roof. Another image flashed across her mind of her father's red, enraged face...she could still see the smoke practically coming of his ears at her behavior.

"_Nepriyemlemo_!" he'd screamed in her face. "_Nepriyemlemo!"_

Of course, those little games she'd played -the same ones she'd quickly become an expert in as she'd gotten older- hadn't amounted to anything but victory after victory for her father. He'd caught her with one joint -just _one- _and promptly sent her to a discrete and secluded rehab facility to 'straighten her out' right before she turned 18. She really should've known better. Sooner or later, her father always won.

Her mind flashed to that dark room...that sterile, bare table...Dimitri loosening his expensive tie with one and picking up the...

Shaking herself out of this trip down memory lane, she blew out a deep breath to regather her bearings and finally get back to the matter at hand. And just like that, her eyes fell right on their target. There it was.

With careful movements, as if she was worried if she handled it too roughly it could crumble in her hands, her fingertips brushed the image taped up against the back of the mirror. Tears stung her eyes as they grazed along the happy figures smiling back at her. Her mother, young, beautiful, and alive, had both arms wrapped around her children. She almost couldn't believe how happy they looked, how at peace they'd been then...when things were simpler, when her mother was still alive.

As the image of her five-year-old self stared back at her, tiny arms wrapped around her mother's waist and her brother, Nikolas, with his gap-toothed grin, perched on the other side of their mother, Kat couldn't stop the sad smile that slipped across her lips. Even at 10, her older brother had looked every bit the part of a little man, proud and tall in spite of his gangly limbs and floppy brown hair.

And her mother, Natalya, with her long, smooth chestnut hair and her chocolate, kind eyes...she's been gone for so long that it was so easy to forget the nights, sometimes even weeks at a time, that she and Nikolas had been left in Svetlana's care when their mother was just...absent. The loneliness she'd felt, the inadequacy she'd felt -Jesus, when had she ever even felt _adequate_ at any point in her life? It was so much easier to just forget all that and to just mourn her mother's permanent absence from her life rather than the temporary ones.

It was almost too painful to look at for much longer, but her fingers closed around the edges of the photo anyways to pull it off the mirror. Pressing it into her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut, allowing one stray tear to slip down her cheek. Then she promptly brushed it aside and slid the photo into her back pocket for safe keeping.

And then her eyes fell on the bottom of the mirror. In her efforts to move the vanity aside, some drawer underneath it had come loose...but she'd never seen it before. Had this always been there? What the hell…?

Frowning at the vanity, she crouched down to run her fingers along the edge of the drawer, trying and failing to dislodge the hidden space underneath the vanity. She needed something…in a flash, she was back up on her feet and rummaging through her old closet until her hands closed around a wire hanger. Moments later, she was hunched back down underneath the vanity, twisting and turning until the dusty drawer finally snapped open.

As the drawer lunged forward, plummeting to the ground on its hinges, slips of frayed, yellowed paper fell to the ground and landed right at her feet. Her fingers reached out as if they had a mind of their own until they closed around the slip of paper nearest to her feet. Even as her eyes skimmed across the faded ink, she stopped cold at the unfamiliar handwriting. With her hands trembling around the edges of the yellowed paper, she couldn't stop her eyes from flying across the words:

_My Dearest Natalya_

"Since when did Viktor Putlova ever write a love letter?" Kat wondered out loud.

Nothing about this made sense...if these were love letters, why would her mother hide them here? And when in God's name had her parents ever been in love enough to warrant a letter like this? The answer, it seemed, lied at the very bottom of the page. There it was in plain black and white in the signature. Not Viktor Putlova's signature...but Sergei Putlova, her uncle. The uncle who'd been murdered the very same night she'd found her mother's dead body nearly twenty feet away from where she stood now. On impulse, she frantically shuffled through each page only to find the same signature on every single one.

Her father's brother, she realized with a growing sense of dread, had written over a hundred love letters to her mother before they died. The dates ranged from several years before she was born to the night before they died. Still, she couldn't stop herself from reading:

_I think we must be crazy, but I can't stop the way I feel. I've tried, moya lyubov. I really have, but I can't stop. I wish there it didn't have to be this way, but never, ever have I regretted a moment. Every touch, every kiss, every glance has been worth it, moya solntse. I wouldn't trade those moments for anything in the world. _

She skimmed through the letters, finding more of the same on each one. Sweet, beautiful declarations of love with little hope for a future. It was heart-breaking and soul-shattering to read at the same time. All these years and she'd had no idea her uncle, who'd always been so standoffish and dismissive to her, was capable of such warmth, such love. And suddenly, her mother's frequent, unexplained absences throughout her childhood made sense.

Gradually, the tone shifted from heartache and love to sheer desperation. It seemed they were getting more paranoid of being found out with each letter she read, some of them dated just days apart and others, weeks and months, but the message was still the same. Sergei feared for her mother's safety as well as the safety of her children...and then Kat's heart stopped as her eyes flitted across the next letter in her hands.

_I don't care if I'll never know, lyubiamaya. In my heart, she's ours. Beautiful, sweet Ekaterina is ours. _

Oh God...but he'd always been so cold, so domineering towards her, like she never mattered, like she'd just been a speck of dust under his shoe. Maybe that was it...maybe that was why. If there was even the slightest chance that Uncle Sergei was, in fact, her biological father, he never would've dropped even the slightest hint. He'd kept his distance and maintained that cold demeanor to give little room for suspicion, to protect them all. The paper trembled underneath her fingertips, but still, she couldn't make herself stop reading.

_You must begin to make the arrangements, lyubiamaya. His suspicions are growing with each day that passes and until I can ensure your safety permanently, you, Ekaterina, and Nikolas will never be safe in that house. As soon as possible, you must go. _

Her uncle's handwriting -if that's what he really was- grew more sloppy, more rushed with the last letter, dated the day before he and her mother were killed.

_I love you so much, lyubiamaya. I don't know what will become of us or if I will be successful. All I can do is my best to ensure your safety and the children's safety. I need you alive, moya lyubov. That is all. Even if it means never seeing you again, I need you alive. I need your son and our daughter alive. I need to know you're safe. I will do whatever it takes, dorogaya._

Kat's blood ran cold at those last words. Her uncle's car had exploded the same night she'd come home early from a sleepover to find her mother's pale figure splayed out in her parent's bedroom in a pool of blood. Was it possible that her father -if that's what he was- had learned not only of his wife's affair but also what his brother was plotting?

_Yes, _she thought bitterly, _it was very possible. _

And if it was, the missing pieces to the puzzle slid right into place.

With that thought, she haphazardly shoved the letters into her oversized Prada purse before propping the vanity back into its spot against the wall. Over the last week, she'd learned just how much she could count on her older brother. He'd stepped up, taken on her burdens, her fear, and her pain, and he'd helped her come out the other side with the promise to take her secret to the grave.

Now, she found herself at her brother's mercy yet again for the second time in a week. Nikolas had to know. This wasn't something she could keep from him...and she didn't want to.

In the span of ten minutes, her entire world had changed on a dime. Everything she knew about her mother, her uncle, and their deaths had been a carefully orchestrated lie. At the time, everyone in the family, or the _bratva, _were led to believe the Cacuzzas were behind the deaths as retaliation...for what she'd never been quite sure and certainly had never been told. But now, with very different evidence right in her hands, she knew better. It couldn't be a coincidence that her mother and her uncle were murdered on the same night, especially if her mother and uncle's plans had come to light.

There was no way Viktor Putlova would have allowed himself to be duped and made a fool of. He would never have allowed her mother to leave. And he never would have allowed her uncle to overthrow him, not if he'd gotten wind of their plans.

And just like that, everything in Ekaterina Putlova's life came crumbling down.

_**Russian Translations**_:

_Nepriyemlemo - _Unacceptable

_Lyubiamaya_ - My Darling

_Moya Lyubov_ - My Love

_Moya Solntse_ - My Sunshine

_Dorogaya_ - Darling

_Bratva_ - Russian Mafia

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><p><strong>AN-Jax will be making his first appearance in the next chapter and we'll see where both he and the club are at as well as how all this business with Kat, the letters, and the _bratva_ will end up in the club's orbit. The rating will most likely change with the next update. Look for chapter one next Wednesday! I can't wait to hear your feedback on this one, especially since I've been holding on to it and babying it for so long. Please let me know what you think: thoughts/comments/predictions!**

**Also, thank you to alistensrude for reading all these chapters for me!**


	2. Economy

**A/N-Thanks so much for all the great feedback and support for this story! I was really nervous to see how this one (and this OC particularly) would be received and I'm so glad you guys liked it. This chapter will give some background into the club's current situation as well as a look into Jax's head (it's in a pretty dark place in this story). **

**Once again, all Russian translations can be found at the end of the chapter. Also, just a heads-up, I've changed the rating now for language. This story will earn its M rating in later chapters for other reasons ;) Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>SANCTUARY<strong>

Chapter One

"_Economy is a good servant, but a bad master."_

_-_Russian Proverb

_Monday, October 28, 2010_

With the roars of the spectators around him, Jackson Teller reared his head back, relishing in the jeers and the energy buzzing surrounding him, and slammed his forehead right into his opponent. As the nameless Mayan fell to the rubber mat underneath their feet, Chibs leapt forward to raise Jax's arms in the air, signaling his victory.

Even as his brothers and his club rallied around him, the high of triumph was the only thing he could feel. That was all that mattered...that he could feel something, _anything. _The problem was that in a few minutes, once the high wore off, all he would feel was nothing but numb. So, with as much nonchalance as he could muster, he wiped the blood from his chin and allowed his club to huddle around him to celebrate the fruits of his labor.

Each fight netted the club at least over $5,000 depending on the opponent, but at this point, it wasn't even about the money for him anymore. He needed the burn of feeling his face ripped open, the crunch of his fist slamming into the hard, faceless body in front of him. He just needed to _feel. _It was better than the shit he had to deal with as soon as that buzz faded away and it was certainly better than what any drug, drink, or pussy could do for him.

He let Chibs pull him over to a side picnic table near the makeshift ring on T-M's parking lot and someone, probably Ope, held a beer out in front of his face and Jax took it willingly. But sooner or later, no matter what he did, the apathetic, almost senseless feeling of nothing would just seep back into the cracks in his existence. It was only a matter of time now.

"You're a fuckin' madman in that ring, brother!" Tig was saying to him now as he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "A fuckin' madman!"

_A madman with nothing to lose_, Jax thought bitterly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the dark silhouette of his mother, hands perched angrily on her hips, as she watched the scene from a distance. Gemma did not understand his new addiction to the ring and hated what it represented for him -that it was really the pain and blood he was hooked on- but he didn't really give a shit about that. Gemma would just have to suck it up and deal with it.

"_You just haven't been the same, baby," _his mother had told him earlier this morning. "_It's like you're a completely different person. It scares me."_

Truth be told, it scared him too, but fuck if he'd ever admit that.

Gemma was right. The man that went inside Stockton and the man that had come out three weeks ago weren't one in the same anymore. Prison had irrevocably altered him for the worse and he'd grown so accustomed to tuning out his emotions that he wasn't so sure if or when they'd ever make an appearance again. But it was more than that, too. This life had hardened him and the byproducts of those who'd left him in their wake had only added to his armor. Fourteen months in Stockton was really just the catalyst.

Maybe that was why he craved these bloody, bare-knuckled fistfights. The raw recklessness of the ring called to him in a way nothing else had before...and maybe that was what scared Gemma the most. The club, and everything that surrounded it, used to be the only thing he needed to sustain him, to give him energy, to give him reason to wake up in the morning. Now, he craved these fights like a junkie craved his next hit.

It was dangerous, he knew, but he was past the point of caring.

When his club president and stepfather, Clay Morrow, nodded to the parking lot from the club's huddle around him, it was obvious that their guests had arrived. Not like he was happy about it. The last thing he wanted to do right now was have a sit-down with the new head of the Russian mafia, _especially _after since this new regime was the very reason Jax had been denied sweet, poetic justice at Ope's wedding three weeks ago.

In fact, one of the main reasons he'd gotten into the ring in the first place -other than the cash- was because the Russian mafia, or _bratva, _in all its fucked up glory, had literally compounded on itself just as the club was getting out of Stockton. His anger needed a violent, bloody outlet and fighting had seemed like an obvious choice.

They'd had the plan all worked out too and he would've been able to get the one thing that had sustained him throughout his stint in Stockton: revenge. Viktor Putlova's vendetta had put a shiv in Jax's ribs and his ass in the hospital ward for nearly two months. All his doctors claimed how lucky he was to be alive, how it had been a miracle -that if the shiv had hit just a millimeter higher, he would've bled out right on the concrete floor.

So Jax spent the rest of his sentence patiently plotting Putlova's demise. It didn't matter that the Russian probably had good reason to be pissed -after all, Samcro essentially cheated him out of $2 million in order to procure Jimmy O'Phelan for their own purposes. Reasons aside, Jax wanted Putlova dead and he'd wanted to be the one driving the knife right into that motherfucker's heart.

But someone beat him to it and instead of a knife, had put a bullet right between Putlova's beady black eyes.

Hearing that particular kernel of intel right on the day he'd expected to hand out his own personal brand of justice had indefinitely put a damper on his first day of freedom. Now, all he could think about was how he'd been cheated. How he'd been screwed out of his vengeance for petty, inter-secular reasons he didn't really give a shit about in the first place.

Rumor had it that someone close to Putlova delivered the death blow. Someone in his inner circle. And Jax had a strong feeling that someone had just parked his fancy Rolls Royce right in T-M's lot.

As the remnants of the fight cleared, with the Mayans dragging their tails between their legs as they hopped on their bikes with one last sneer in Samcro's direction, several pinstriped suits, with their fancy leather shoes and slicked-back haircuts, stepped out of the Rolls Royce and effectively onto Samcro property.

Flanked by his finely-dressed cronies, the man in the middle of the small crowd could only be Nikolas Putlova, heir apparent to the Bay area _bratva. _After Putlova's untimely -and well-deserved- demise a little over three weeks ago, his only son had stepped into the role of _pakhan_ and as far as Jax knew, the _bratva _was still in turmoil, despite the regime change.

Not like he really gave a shit.

Still, as the five-man crowd drew closer, it was clear Nikolas Putlova had slid into his father's shoes with finely-coiffed ease. His dark features betrayed nothing but an impassive mask of indifference to his surroundings, and despite the fact that he was the shortest of the men who walked up the pavement, held himself with the assured, authoritative steps of a man in charge.

Even though the _bratva_'s new head honcho had been the one to reach out to the club, Jax still had a hard time not rolling his eyes at their approach. The last thing he wanted to do right now was sit at a table and make nice with the fucking Russians. He didn't care where their loyalties lied or what business they had with the club -he'd prefer it if these _riggers_ stepped back into their expensive car and got the fuck off Samcro property.

His club president, however, had other ideas.

All Clay saw were dollar signs and from where Jax was standing, letting money own you -especially the kind of dirty cash the Russians were peddling- just wasn't worth it. But, given the fact that the majority of the club had just spent 14 months in prison, funds were running low and they were all strapped for cash. Hell, he'd started fighting as a way to make a quick buck for the club -he just hadn't anticipated how quickly he'd become fixated on the ring. Still, getting in bed with the very same organization responsible for nearly killing him in Stockton did not seem like an ideal candidate to invite onto club property.

But, as Clay never failed to remind him, he wasn't the one calling the shots, not yet at least. The VP patch gave him some pull, but not the kind that would veto a move like this. So when Nikky Putlova had called to make Samcro an offer they couldn't refuse, Clay jumped to take the bait. Now, it just remained to be seen what that offer was.

Jax fell behind the small crowd of Russian suits and Samcro patches that had already gathered at the clubhouse's entrance, eyeing Clay warily as he shook hands with Nikolas Putlova. Just the sight that gesture, even if it was just for appearances, made his stomach churn and his lips curl back into a sneer. With a quick glance over his shoulder to find that Gemma had disappeared inside T-M's office, Jax blew out an exasperated breath before following the crowd inside, growing more agitated with every step.

As far as he was concerned, he had far better things to do for the rest of the evening than sit at some table and play nice with the fucking Ruskies. Right on the top of his list was grabbing the first bottle of Jack he could find and maybe some croweater. Maybe. He hadn't decided yet if he was better off just grabbing a joint instead, but he had time to decide. That time, however, was being significantly squandered with each moment he spent sitting around a table with Nikolas Putlova and his cronies. And so, if anything, he was grateful when the new _pakhan _cut right to the chase.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me," Nikolas Putlova began carefully once all the necessary players were assembled in a booth. "I appreciate your generosity and your discretion more than I can tell you."

Choosing to avoid eye contact, Jax lit up a cigarette and puffed away at the booth, eager to get this over with already.

Clay eyed him warily as he slid the sole ashtray on the table next to Jax's elbow before shifting his gaze back to their guests. "No problem. Let's talk business then shall we? I know I speak for the rest of my club when I say we're awfully curious about this deal you want to cut with us."

If Nikolas Putlova had expected pleasantries and polite small talk, he wasn't going to find it here. But instead of showing his cards, the young _pakhan _kept them close to his chest with a knowing nod of concession.

"Any reservations you have about meeting tonight are certainly justified. Your club," Nikolas continued, folding his hands carefully in front of him, ever the cool business man, and nodded to Jax as he spoke, "and your vice president, especially, have every reason to distrust me, but let me assure you, I am not my father, nor do I have any intention of becoming him. He and I disagreed on too many things to discuss here tonight, but all you need to know is that my father and I have been fighting for control of the organization for years. It's been a long time since I agreed with any decision he made and the attack on your Vice President was no exception."

Jax bristled at the mention of his near-death experience in Stockton, clenching his fists tightly into his lap underneath the table, and Clay cast him a warning glance from the corner of his eye. The exchange wasn't lost on Putlova 2.0 and he immediately nodded, seemingly keen on putting this particular past behind them as soon as possible.

"I tried to persuade my father not to retaliate, that an attack of that magnitude, in a prison, no less, would only make matters worse," Nikolas carried on gravely. "I'd long tried to convince him to sever ties with the True IRA and of course, if he had listened, I doubt any of us would find ourselves in this position now, huddled over a table trying to make amends. But my father never listened to any of my advice and since I couldn't make any of the calls, my hands were tied."

"Until now," Clay surmised with a tight nod.

"Yes," Nikolas agreed, shifting his black eyes to Jax, who was seated to the right of Clay. "On behalf of the men seated next to me, and myself, please know that none of us had anything to do with your attack."

He paused, as if to wait for some sort of response, but Jax offered nothing. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to give. Anything he might've been able to offer was stripped from him the moment Viktor Putlova found himself with a bullet in the head -one that Jax hadn't delivered himself.

"That being said," Nikolas cleared his throat shakily, "my aim tonight is to make amends, as I mentioned before. I believe the relationship between our two organizations can be restored. My father made poor business decisions for years, always investing in the wrong ally -the True IRA, for example- but we have the potential to have a lucrative business relationship if we can put these prior matters behind us."

"So," Jax laughed bitterly with a shake of his head. "You come up in here, on our turf, make some apologies and some excuses, and say you wanna let bygones be bygones and we're just supposed to believe you...just like that?"

He didn't need to glance at Clay or even Tig, who was seated on the other side of the club's president, to know he'd done nothing but voice their own thoughts. It was a fair question and one Nikolas Putlova needed to answer.

"I understand," the _pakhan _replied lowly with a tight nod. "If the tables were reversed, I can't imagine I would feel differently. There is some sensitive information I have every intention of sharing with you, but before I do so, I need to know that what is said in this room will stay in this room."

Clay dipped his chin just once, signalling the club's discretion, and Jax found himself narrowing his eyes at Nikolas Putlova's stiff form across from him. Whatever he planned on telling them...Jax had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to like it.

"Three weeks ago," Nikolas began again, his voice taking on a colder, more dangerous edge than before. "Some incriminating evidence regarding my father came to light and I put the bullet in his head myself."

The room suddenly became so quiet you could've heard a pin drop.

Nikolas grinned darkly, his eyes turning to into black shards of ice with each syllable. "I'm not sure how much of my family's history you're familiar with, so allow me to give you a quick lesson. I'm willing to bet you were aware my uncle and my mother were murdered 12 years ago?"

Clay frowned, glancing at Jax with uncertainty out of the corner of his eye, but nodded nonetheless. "Yeah, I remember hearing somethin' about that. What was it...a car bomb, right? And your mom…"

"Was shot in the head on the same night," Nikolas finished for him with a callousness that surprised even Jax. "My sister found her in the house. They were murdered within an hour of each other, but that's beside the point. Up until three weeks ago, my sister and I were led to believe the Cacuzzas were behind the murders."

"Right," Clay nodded slowly, mentally working out the details. "Your dad went on a rampage after that -took out the whole Cacuzza family in the process to get revenge. Trust me, I was more than grateful Samcro and the _bratva _were still on good terms when all that went down."

"It certainly made for a good story," Nikolas lifted a shoulder in nonchalance. "Too bad it was just one of my father's blatant, most malicious lies," he paused for just a moment to huff out a bitter laugh, "as it turns out, my uncle and my mother had been having an affair for years. My father's suspicions came to a head and when he found out that not only was my mother planning to leave him with my sister and me in tow, but that my uncle was planning to overthrow the regime as well, he had them killed...made it look like an enemy was responsible so he could take the Cacuzzas out too."

"And you figured this out...how?" Clay asked, disbelief creeping into his voice.

"Unlikely ghosts resurfaced," Nikolas allowed cryptically with a sad smile. "My sister discovered the evidence, brought it to me, and I killed my father two days later."

Nikolas allowed the group a few much-needed moments of silence to digest that new information before blowing out a deep breath. "There's more, of course."

"Of course there is," Jax eyed him carefully. There was always more and he had a feeling this revelation about Putlova's family wasn't even the half of it.

With a knowing nod, Nikolas reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a folded Manila file before sliding it across the table to Clay. After a moment's hesitation, Clay flipped the folder open, stiffening in the booth as his eyes skimmed the contents. Finally, he jerked his gaze back up to the suit in front of him, his eyes glinting with malice.

"What the hell is this?" Clay demanded, gesturing down to the folder with staccato, fiery movements.

"That," Nikolas motioned with his head to the folder on the table, "is my father's file on Samcro. As it turns out, he kept dossiers on every business contact, regardless of their affiliation or status with my father. Every phone call, every transaction...it's all documented here. And that," he paused to pull yet another folder out of his suit jacket and tossed it down next to the first, "is the file on the True IRA."

Clay's jaw clenched tightly as his eyes flicked back up to Nikolas and even though he'd hadn't yet confirmed what everyone seemed to know, Jax couldn't believe what he was hearing. The only reason a guy like Viktor Putlova would keep these kind of records was if…

"You tellin' me Viktor Putlova was a fuckin' informant?"

Nikolas shrugged casually and blew out a deep breath through his nostrils. "I'm not 100 percent sure, but like you, I reached the same conclusion when one of my _boyeviks_ discovered these files on my father's hard drive."

"No way a guy like him just leaves this shit on his hard drive for anyone to find," Jax retorted next to Clay, growing more and more irritated with Nikolas Putlova as this meeting carried on.

"He didn't," Nikolas shook his head. "The hard drive was encrypted about seven times over. I'm just lucky the one computer genius in our organization was the one still loyal to me. I think it's safe to assume, since you were just released from prison on charges unrelated to your involvement with my father, that he didn't use the information in that file and if he did, it's obsolete now because he's dead and the hard drive has been destroyed. You can do whatever you like with the information on the True IRA; I understand you've had some issues with them in recent years, so it's your call."

Clay exhaled deeply, promptly lit up a cigar, puffing away in silence as he perused the contents of the True IRA file before slapping the file shut. "Why you givin' us all this?"

The answer, it seemed, was simple, but it was still one Jax wasn't exactly keen on hearing.

"I need an ally and as you can see," Nikolas spread his hands out in front of him, gesturing to the men sitting next to him, "the number of men left in my organization that I can trust are few and far between. Everything I told you tonight was a sign of good faith on my part because I needed to prove to you and the rest of your club that I'm not my father. As far as I'm concerned, the old regime is dead right along with its ghosts and its enemies."

_There's gotta be a catch to all this shit, _Jax thought darkly. _There's always a goddamn catch._

"My friends," Nikolas went on, his features pulled across his face with a grim expression and Jax knew the other shoe was about to drop. "I'm in desperate need of a favor."

And...there it was.

The annoyance must have been written all over his face because Nikolas held up a hand to silently ask for permission to explain.

"My sister is in grave danger," Nikolas pressed on and suddenly, the atmosphere around the table turned on a dime. Gone was the amiable and generous _pakhan _in his fancy, expensive suit. In his place was a deadly serious man with very real concern for his family's well-being -even Jax could see that. "Other than the men sitting next to me, I still don't know for certain who can be trusted within the _bratva_ and who can't. Until I do, my sister won't be safe anywhere near the organization."

"You think someone still loyal to your dad might try to take her out?" Clay wondered out loud, eyeing the much younger man in front of him carefully.

"I'm positive," Nikolas nodded tersely. "She knows too much and there are other...more sensitive reasons as well. Her father had arranged for her to marry one of his most trusted _sovietniks_ and now that he's dead, that marriage will happen over my dead body."

"You're talkin' about Dimitri Novikov, aren't ya?" Tig spoke up from Clay's right, leaning forward on his elbows with an expression that matched Nikolas's grim one.

As soon as that name left Tig's lips, Jax felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Dimitri Novikov was a well-known name in the outlaw world, primarily because he had always been one of the most lethal and violent killers in this world. Novikov, while easily on par with Happy for number and brutality of killings, had the added distinction of also ranking almost to the top of his _bratva, _second only to Nikolas Putlova in his standing within the organization. The fact that Viktor Putlova had wanted to marry his daughter off to Novikov spoke volumes about their relationship and if anything, only explained Nikolas's palpable distress about his sister's safety.

"If Novikov were to learn that…" Nikolas trailed off, as if he was considering just how much to wanted to tell them now. "There are some...sensitive issues...that Novikov can't know. If he were to find out, I have no doubt he wouldn't hesitate to murder my sister. He would probably do it right in front of me if he had the opportunity."

"So you need somewhere to stash her for awhile," Clay surmised, leaning back in his chair to sift through this new piece of the puzzle.

Nikolas wasted no time and nodded immediately. "Yes, that's what I'm asking."

"And lemme guess," Jax folded his arms in front of his chest. If annoyance paved the way for animosity, then he'd just about worn a hole out of that path. "You want that somewhere to be our clubhouse."

"Something like that, yes," Nikolas lifted his chin to signal they were on the right track. "No one would think to look for her here with the club, not with your history with my father. But I would prefer it if you could take her to your cabin. I think she will be safest there -out of sight, away from anyone who could be potentially looking for her."

Jax shot Clay a sullen glance, but Samcro's club president just looked impressed by the _pakhan_'s resourcefulness. Clearly, Nikolas had done his homework on the club, or, at the very least, read the fine print in that file his dad kept on the club very carefully to glean as much intel as possible.

Now, much to Jax's dismay, Clay was leaning forward on his elbows with the sort of contemplative expression that suggested he was actually considering this shit.

"So," Clay started slowly, "Say we agree to this...how long would we be, uh, _responsible _for your sister's well-being?"

"At least until I can determine who I can trust and dispose of the ones I can't," Nikolas replied with a shrug, a gesture that looked far too easy given the current topic of conversation. "A few weeks, maybe...I wish I could give you a specific timeframe, but I can't."

Well, at the very least, _that _was something Jax could understand.

"Alright," Clay pressed on, clearly undeterred by such a vague timeframe. "So, we agree to _repair_ our relationship as you said and stow your sister away at our cabin…" he trailed off and gestured towards the folders in front of him, "other than these files, what's in it for the club?"

Nikolas nodded, as if he'd been expecting this, if not surprised it hadn't come up sooner.

"My sister is the only real family I have left," he leaned forward to reiterate his point. "Name your price."

* * *

><p>"Well, that was interesting, to say the least," Clay surveyed the gathering around the Redwood and clamped his lips around his cigar.<p>

"I don't know, brother," Piney called out from the end of the table. "For all that pomp and circumstance bullshit, he seemed awfully desperate for a kid with so much new power in his hands."

"I guess we use that to our advantage then," Clay grinned and tapped his cigar into the ashtray next to him. He gestured with his head toward Juice, who'd been sent on an impromptu recon mission before sitting down to the table. "It all check out?"

Juice lifted a shoulder nonchalantly as he tossed some papers onto the table. "The story seems legit. The mom and uncle died just the way Putlova said they did and from the quick pass I was able to give those files, the info he's got on us and the IRA's legit too. I pulled up a quick background check on the sister and Novikov and…" he shook his head, "I gotta say, Putlova's right to think he's a threat. The guy's got a rap sheet longer than Clay and Piney combined and that doesn't even touch all the other shit…"

"He's got a rep," Happy chimed in with a gruff, low voice. It was rare that Hap spoke up like this in the chapel and when he did, the few words he did allow were ones the club needed to listen to. "Heard some stories about him when I was nomad -he's been around the _bratva _long enough now that the guy's like a fuckin' legend, more than just a lapdog, you know? Heard he snapped some guy's head off his neck just because Viktor Putlova didn't think the guy was delivering their shipments fast enough. Likes his knives...likes his torture...gets off on it."

"Makes sense why the new _pakhan_ wouldn't want his sister anywhere near that shit," Bobby surmised with a grim nod.

Jax just shook his head, running a hand over his buzzed head. The fact that they were even sitting at the Redwood now, discussing this like it was real possibility with Nikolas Putlova waiting outside in the clubhouse, was completely mind-boggling to him. Dollar signs were the only thing driving this conversation now and that almost pissed him off more than the prospect of getting into bed with the very organization that nearly murdered him in prison.

"So how much do we ask for?" Tig chimed in next to Clay.

That got Jax's attention immediately. He held up a hand, unable to believe his ears, and stared each of his brothers down with a hard glare. "Hold up...we're not actually gonna do this."

Clay just lifted a shoulder in nonchalance before glancing at Tig. "Wouldn't hurt us to throw out a line, see if he takes the bait."

"Could be the biggest payday the club's ever seen if we play this right," Bobby added with a shrug. "There's been bad blood between us and the Russians before...but the reason for all that shit is dead and buried now."

"Bad blood?" Jax growled, turning his head to face Bobby with his eyebrows raised high into his forehead. "Do I gotta show you the scar on my ribs to remind you just how bad that blood is?"

"Look," Clay shot him a pointed look to try to get him back in line. "Nobody at this table has forgotten what went down in Stockton. You've got your reasons for not wanting to get in bed with the Russians -we all get that- but your beef with Viktor Putlova ended when his son put a bullet in his head. We let bygones be bygones, like you said yourself, and this could be one of the best business decisions we've made in a helluva long time."

Jax bit back the animosity just itching to get out and clenched his fists underneath the table. While Clay might have had a point, it wasn't one he wanted to hear, especially not at the Redwood. Still, even though he knew his best bet at this point was falling in line, the notion not only made him sick to his stomach, but also made him want to put his fist through something -preferably Nikolas Putlova's face.

"Let's ask for 500 Gs," Tig suggested lightly. "Wouldn't hurt to see if Nikky boy's willin' to shell out that kinda cash for dear ol' sis."

"Might as well make it a million," Jax huffed and promptly lit a cigarette to get himself in check with a shake of his head.

Clay's eyebrows rose at the suggestion, looking just as amused as Tig. "Yeah, might as well."

"So, we stash the sister up at the cabin, send a patch or two up there with her to keep an eye on things, pocket the cash," Opie suggested from the opposite side of the table, keeping an attentive eye trained on Jax as he spoke. "And this is all...what? A sign of good faith to get rid of the bad blood?"

"Sign of the times, boys," Clay sighed. "We need the cash. There's no skirtin' around that and I don't think I should have to point out that having more than half our club inside for 14 months all but drained our assets. We do this and make Putlova happy, we get a huge fuckin' payday and set ourselves up with the kind of Russian gratitude that keeps more business comin' our way."

"Which of us gets to draw the short straw?" Piney called out from the end of the table.

Clay just waved a hand, but not before casting Jax a glance out of the corner of his eye. "We can figure the details out later."

Bobby nodded, clearly needing no more convincing and lifted his chin towards Juice. "What do we know about the sister?"

Juice thumbed through some of the pages in front of him before glancing back up at the table. "Ekaterina Putlova...25, went to Dominican University by the Bay for two years before she dropped out. Dad checked her into Pacific Hills when she was 17, looks like he put her in the drug program _and _the behavioral one too…"

Jax huffed out a bitter laugh and shook his head, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. Of course the mafia princess had been to rehab. What a shocker. _And _dropped out of college too, dumping daddy's money right down the drain to boot. Go figure.

Bobby waved a hand at the information, unfazed by the fact they were probably signing themselves up to babysit a spoiled Russian brat. "Sounds like pretty typical shit to me. I think our main concern here should be Novikov and what happens if he gets wind of the fact that his new boss is hidin' his woman from him."

"I think it needs to be said," Jax murmured darkly from his seat next to Clay, "that this could all go south pretty fuckin' quick. I don't know about you, but I think Nikky could be overestimating his abilities to head up an organization _and _figure out who in the old regime he can trust and who he can't. He might have good intentions, but that doesn't mean he can actually do it. And that doesn't mean that the guys still loyal to his dad aren't settin' him up to fail in a big way. Shit hits the fan in the _bratva _and we're right in the middle of a Russian turf war by throwing our hat in the ring with him."

"Not to mention," Juice added with a nod towards the papers in front of him, "shit goes down inside the _bratva _and we're still stuck with the sister on our hands too."

"I don't give a shit about the sister," Jax waved a hand dismissively and took another quick pull from his cigarette. "I think we gotta ask ourselves, brothers, is gettin' in bed with the Russians _really_ worth a million dollars to us?"

Unfortunately, as Jax surveyed the thoughtful, albeit hungry faces staring back at him, he knew he already had his answer.

**Russian Translation:**

_Pakhan - _head boss of individual Russian mafia organizations

_Rigger - _a Russian who thinks he's a gangster from the streets

_Ruski - _derogatory slur for Russian

_Boyevik - _Warrior or soldier in the _bratva_

_Sovietnik - _Advisor or trusted counsel to the _pakhan_

* * *

><p><strong>AN-I wonder who's gonna end up going to the cabin with her, huh? Probably the one least willing to go would be my guess ;) I know this chapter was heavy on club business, but it was necessary to establish how Jax and Kat are going to end up connecting as well as how all these internal issues within the bratva will wreak havoc in the future. All this business about Nikolas taking over is going to play a huge part in the major action towards the second half of this story because like Jax alluded to before, the takeover isn't going to be as easy as Nikolas has made it seem. **

**The next chapter will bring Jax and Kat face to face. Should be interesting, right? **

**Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed/alerted/favorited this story! Please let me know what you think! Look for another updated next Wednesday!**


	3. Long Knives

**SANCTUARY**

Chapter Two

"_All are not cooks that walk with long knives."_

-Russian Proverb

_Monday, October 28, 2010_

Out-voted.

That's exactly what he was. Not like he was actually surprised.

And that sinking, uneasy sensation settling in Jax's stomach just swirled and churned as he pushed himself out of his chair at the Redwood to shuffle begrudgingly back out into the clubhouse. Of course, catching Clay and Bobby from over his shoulder, still seated at the table with their heads bent away from prying eyes, certainly didn't do anything to ease his anxiety over the coming arbitration.

So, when the necessary players were reassembled at the booth, Clay didn't waste a moment before folding his hands on the table in front of him to re-open negotiations.

"You've got yourself a deal," Clay threw out with a seasoned confidence gleaned from years of sit-downs just like this, "_if_ you send a million dollars our way."

Nikolas Putlova didn't even flinch. In fact, he didn't even hesitate, choosing instead to just send Clay a tight nod before uttering his one-word response: "Done."

Surprise flickered across Samcro's club president for only a moment and then he quickly shook it off, allowing a cool, impassive mask to slip over its place. Jax wondered fleetingly if maybe they should've asked for two million...if Putlova was so willing to just throw money away to save his sister, then why shouldn't the club profit from it? Now, he was just shaking his head at this whole convoluted turn of events.

The fact that Putlova was just whipping out his checkbook to pay his dad's enemies to whisk his precious sister away from the big, bad Russians was almost comical. Like throwing money at a problem would just make it go away.

Nobody needed to explain the importance of family to him. The brotherhood was just about the only thing keeping him from flying off the deep end as of late and if push came to shove, if he had that sort of cash at his disposable and needed it to get one of his brothers out of a bind, he'd offer it up in a heartbeat if it would make any difference. Maybe it was just because of the last name...no, that was definitely it...but he just couldn't get past the sour taste all this shit left in his mouth. It was just too bitter a pill to swallow right now.

"Alright," Clay cleared his throat in a successful attempt at covering his reaction. "We've got a deal then."

"That's excellent," Nikolas replied, finally exhibiting just a twinge of the relief Jax had expected to see from the _pakhan. _"Thank you so much. I will be forever in your debt."

Clay smirked, as if to say, _that's exactly what we were counting on_, and then got right back to business. "You make the drop tomorrow here at the clubhouse and we'll get your cargo up to our cabin within an hour. We'll even send two of our higher-ranking patches up there with her as a sign of good faith, you know what I mean?"

Although Jax had begun to tune out the details of this conversation a few minutes ago, that last sentence had his gaze swiveling right back to the club president, who was still staring at Nikolas Putlova like he'd just called on a hand of poker. A cold sense of dread crept through him as the image of Clay and Bobby huddled together at the Redwood right after church flashed across his mind. Soon, that sense of dread morphed into bitter disgust at the situation unfolding in front of him.

"And who will you be sending with my sister?" Nikolas asked quietly, his dark eyes trained carefully on the men in front of him.

Clay's eyes glinted as he shot Jax a toothy lop-sided grin, sending him into a headfirst plummet between fury and disbelief.

"My club treasurer," Clay nodded to Bobby, who was seated just feet away on a nearby bar stool, and then he slapped Jax on the shoulder, "and my VP."

Those words were enough to curl Jax's lips back into a snarl. Right about now, he was more pissed at himself than anything. He should've seen this coming...he should've known Clay would throw this curveball his way. Whatever his reasons were, Clay knew exactly what he was doing: exerting authority over his VP to strong-arm him into towing the party line.

Fuck that shit.

But a quick glance across the booth told him that he wasn't the only one not particularly happy about this decision either. Nikolas Putlova's eyes narrowed into dangerous, black slits as his gaze pivoted from one patch to the other. The irony, of course, wasn't lost on Jax that Putlova's demeanor towards him had shifted from apologetic to suspicious all in the span of over an hour.

"You got a problem with that arrangement?" Jax prompted, leaning forward on his elbows. Truth be told, he had a clear problem with the arrangement too, but he wasn't above using Putlova's obvious aversion against him.

The _pakhan _slid closer across the table, as if to meet the challenge. "Is there a reason I should?"

At this point, Clay held up a hand to intervene, trying to keep these new relations as friendly as possible between the two organizations. "I'm not sure how or why shit suddenly went south here, but I don't think the pissing contest is necessary, do you?"

The _bratva's _new head and Samcro's vice president didn't budge, each holding their ground for another full measure before Putlova blew out an exasperated breath and leaned back with a deep frown etched into his forehead.

"I apologize," Nikolas relented, adjusting the collar of his dress shirt agitatedly as he spoke. "Considering the history between our organizations, I wasn't expecting that your VP would be willing to do this job."

_No, _Jax thought bitterly, _the VP isn't fucking willing to babysit your entitled little princess, but fuck if I'd ever give you the satisfaction of admitting that._

"Of course he'll do the job," Clay answered for him. "And considering the fact that you waltzed in here lookin' for our help, I wasn't exactly expecting _you_ to give two shits who goes with her as long as someone from our club actually does."

A half-hearted grin of concession spread across Nikolas's features and he swallowed tightly. "I suppose you're right."

Jax shot him a cocky, lop-sided grin and lifted a shoulder. "Beggars can't be choosers, ya know?"

"That may be true," Nikolas replied, a grim line pressing into his lips. "But your reputation precedes you, Mr. Teller, so I'm sure you can understand why I would have reservations about you being in a cabin, in the middle of nowhere for that matter, with my sister for an unforeseen amount of time."

Jax's lips curled and he crossed his arms over his chest, biting back the urge to punch the self-righteousness right off the _pakhan_'s face. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

Nikolas just lifted a shoulder, casually extending his hand out in front of him. "My sister is young and beautiful and to be completely honest, very vulnerable right now. Now, that doesn't mean she's naive, but the last few weeks, the last few months even, have been...stressful for her, to say the least. I know I don't have to ask you to treat her with the respect she deserves."

"Like I said before," Jax smirked. "I don't mix business with pleasure, not when you're about to hand over this kinda cash to my club."

"Fair enough," Nikolas shot back with a tight nod. It was clear he was more than ready to move this along and that was probably the one thing he and Jax agreed on at the moment.

After the details of the drop-off were hammered out and everyone shook hands to secure the arrangement, Jax slumped down into a stool at the bar, ready to drown his frustrations at the bottom of the first bottle he could get his hands on. He needed a few minutes, maybe even a few hours, to get a handle on his shit again, because when he did, he and the club president were going to have words about what just went down here.

What the fuck was Clay thinking? If he actually wanted to keep Putlova happy, like he'd said at the Redwood, then the absolute _last _patch he should sent up to the cabin in Pine Grove was the VP. Sure, the club stood to reap the benefits of burying this old bloody hatchet -or more accurately, shiv. Well, everyone but him. The logic of sending him, the one Samcro patch that hated the name Putlova more than any of the others combined, to play guard dog for anyone in the Putlova family, regardless of circumstance, just didn't make any fucking sense. Clay must have lost his damned mind in Stockton, or at the very least, come out of the pen with his judgment unequivocally clouded.

If this was really what he had to do, if this was really what Clay was going to coerce him into, then he had half a mind to leave the pain in the ass on the side of the road and take his Dyna out for a month-long drive instead.

And just as he'd downed nearly half his first beer, a hand clapped around his shoulder and Clay's gruff voice was in his ear.

"I think you and I need to have a talk, son."

_Hell yeah, we do, _Jax thought as he followed Clay back into the chapel. Why did it feel like he was the petulant child about to spanked by his stern father? He hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, he'd played the part better than Clay could've asked for. Just went along with it like a good little soldier. That didn't mean he was happy about it though.

Fuck, he was infuriated because now it looked like he was about to spend the next few weeks with a high-maintenance, self-involved heiress. The exact kind of woman he had zero intention of touching with a ten-foot pole. Yeah, he liked the comfort a woman's warm, soft body could give him, but as of late, the easy, no frills, no effort, and no strings arrangement he had with any given croweater in the clubhouse was all the comfort he needed.

Besides, he'd already had his fair share of clingy and overly-emotional women to last him a lifetime, not even including his mother. If a woman was anything like either of his exes, the work, effort, and attention it would probably take to get inside her panties just wasn't worth it. Slutty trumped needy any day of the week.

And now, Putlova's little insinuation about his reputation just added insult to injury.

Clay gestured towards Jax's designated chair at the table, motioning for him to have a seat, and the second Jax sunk into the chair, he took this opportunity to light up yet another cigarette. He'd had way too many already today and while part of him knew he should probably at least attempt to cut back, the other part didn't really care, the very part of him that was slowly losing all ability to care about pretty much anything other than his brothers and his club.

They sat at the Redwood wordlessly as Clay puffed away on his cigar and Jax took another heady pull from his cigarette with the muffled voices, clinking bottles, and screaming guitars from Metallica coming from the clubhouse drowning out their silence. As far as Jax was concerned, the only one at this table who had any explaining to do was Clay, so he had no problem sitting here, staring holes into the space in front of him, until Clay decided it was time to end the radio silence.

Luckily for them both, he didn't have to wait very long.

"I know this isn't exactly the type of job you wanna do right now," Clay's low voice called out to him. This was a clear attempt at attention and understanding, but Jax chose to keep his eyes frozen on the ashtray in front of him.

"And I know I probably could've gone about all this shit a different way," Clay went on, "but I needed to make sure you were the one goin' to that cabin. I know you're pissed and hell, you've got every right to be, but you might be missin' the bigger picture here."

"Oh yeah?" Jax lifted his eyes from the table to meet Clay head-on. "And what's that?"

"You already know the club needs this money; I know we don't gotta rehash that here. But in terms of who needs to get their ass up to that cabin the most outta everyone in this club -it's you, son," Clay told him, his face and his tone both betraying that this conversation had just taken a personal turn. "I know we've only been out for three weeks, but...I'm worried about you, Jax. Your mother's worried about you. And I think we have good reason to be, don't you?"

Jax swallowed tightly, flicking some of the ash from the burning cherry in between his fingers instead of responding.

His club president blew out the deep breath of a father who knew he wasn't getting anywhere with his step-son. "Look, these last few years haven't exactly been kind to you. Time in Stockton aside...Wendy losin' the baby...Tara leavin' the way she did...all that shit's taken it's toll on you, son, and we can see it."

Just the mere mention of the history he'd rather stayed dead -right where it belonged- sent his blood simmering in his veins. Mentioning the baby he'd lost due to his ex-wife's drug habits was

a low blow, but if anything, he was grateful Clay hadn't added the details of Tara's abrupt flight from Charming and his life too. He closed his eyes as the image of her sitting across from him flashed across his mind, just a mere week after he'd gone inside, laying down the terms of her exit and the irreversible ties she'd cut in the process. But, just like he'd done for the last 14 months, he shelved those unforgiving, unrelenting emotions aside for another day...preferably never.

"I'm sorry I had to bring all that shit up, Jax," Clay was saying now, his voice taking on a more careful tone, clearly cognizant of the fact he was treading on shaky ground right now. "But it had to be said. I need you to go up to that cabin, take the time you've got up there, and sort your shit out. You're never gonna get a better opportunity than right now."

Jax bristled at the suggestion that he didn't have his shit together, but with a sinking feeling, knew it was more of an observation than anything. He _was_ slipping...even he knew that. He could feel it everytime he got into the ring. That rush, that high of slamming his fist into something -anything, really- just left him itching for the next fight, the next rush, and the next high.

If this was an intervention, then Clay sure as hell knew how to hit below the belt.

"Look, Jax, forget about all this other shit we got goin' with the Russians," Clay waved a hand dismissively. "Bobby can handle it. That's not why you're goin' to the cabin. Take the time, get outside, get some fresh air, clear your head, and get it on fuckin' straight again, because if you keep headin' down the path you're goin', if you keep runnin' around here the way you are, you're gonna wind up killin' yourself, son."

Clay paused to let that sink in, eyeing him carefully to make sure he was getting the point.

_Right, _Jax thought testily, _heard you loud and clear._

"I know how this sounds," Clay held a hand up in defense as he spoke. "But I need to know that my VP's head is in a place where you can lead and you can step up when you need to. I'm not gonna be at the head of this table forever -hell, I probably only got a few more years left in these hands if I'm lucky- and when I step down, I need to know that you're good to go when you need to be. So I need you to get to that cabin, figure out whatever it is you gotta figure out, and come back to the club with a clear head, ready to work."

Well, when Clay put it like that, that didn't leave much room for argument. Still, even if he could have argued, the choice was clearly out of his hands.

So, whether he liked it or not, he was going to the cabin in Pine Grove tomorrow.

* * *

><p><em>Tuesday, October 29, 2010<em>

"You sure you got everything you need?" Gemma asked, gesturing towards the half-opened duffel bag on his bed.

Jax ran a hand over his buzzed head and shot his mother the most good-natured grin he could muster at the moment. "Ma, it's not like I'm goin' away to summer camp, ya know?"

"I know," she chuckled and gave the scruff on his chin a playful tug. "Well, I made sure to grab all your favorites at the store this morning. Chips, dip, some Snickers bars...I picked up some brats and hamburger patties too. Figured maybe you and Bobby could grill out or something while you two are up there."

"You remember the booze?"

"Yeah, asshole," she shot back with a smirk. "I remembered the booze. How could I forget? Well, I'm pretty sure Tig and Chibs left a shit-ton of beer the last time they were up there so…"

She trailed off and he let her, not really wanting to keep up the act that he was actually looking forward to this little trip away from Charming. He'd hoped sleeping on it would've softened the blow and the animosity he felt towards everyone involved, but it hadn't. In fact, a night of sleep had just reinforced everything that was wrong with this situation.

"Look, baby," Gemma sighed and lifted a hand to his cheek. "Me and Clay...we just want you to be okay. He saw an opportunity and he took it. That's all this is, baby. It's just you gettin' right with what's gotta get right, okay?"

"Sure," he offered dismissively and zipped up his duffel bag before swinging it over his shoulder.

"Jax…"

"It doesn't matter, Ma," he called over his shoulder as he headed towards his dorm's door.

It wasn't like he was a 31-year-old grown man who should be capable of making his own choices and make his own path. While he got why his parents felt they had cause for concern, he didn't appreciate being treated like a naughty child that needed a time-out. And regardless of what anyone said, he had every fucking right to be pissed that they were sending him on this time-out with a member of the Putlova family.

While he normally didn't condone any sort of violence against women, this was probably the one time in his life where circumstances didn't mean jackshit. The whole Putlova family -and everyone affiliated with it- could blow sky-high into oblivion and he wouldn't bat an eye. But here he was, packing his bags like a good little boy, running off to do Clay's bidding, and allowing himself to be shipped off up north, shackled to a Putlova.

What did Gemma really want him to say? That he was more than bitter about being manipulated into this shit? That he'd rather stick needles in both eyes than help a member of the Putlova family?

At some point, Gemma must have realized their goodbyes were pretty much over because she fell into step behind him, giving him just one more pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the cheek before going to her post in T-M's office. He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed over to the truck Bobby already had loaded with several weeks' worth of food and supplies. Seeing as how they'd already agreed that Bobby would ride with the fucking mafia princess, or FMP as she was being called around the clubhouse, in the truck and that he would follow on his Dyna, it was a relief to see that, true to his word, Bobby was currently in the process of loading his Fat Boy into the trailer hitched up to the truck.

When Bobby materialized from the back end of the trailer, he nodded as Jax threw his duffel bag into the truck's extended cab.

"You all set to go, brother?" Bobby called out.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Bobby just let his sarcasm roll off his shoulder and shrugged. "Cargo should be here any minute."

"Great."

This time, the sarcasm did not go unnoticed as Bobby shot him an exasperated glare, albeit a quick one, over his shoulder before hopping off the trailer to meet Clay by the truck. At this point, Jax figured he was better off just shutting up for now. It was no secret he wasn't particularly happy about this job -and that there was equally no love lost between him and Clay because of it- but if everything Clay had told him was actually true, if the people around him were taking notice of his admittedly self-destructive tendencies, then the only option he had left was to just fall in line like he was supposed to. Fighting it and stomping around like a bratty kid would serve no purpose other than to make him look bad in front of the whole club.

And if the time for him to take over the gavel was really coming sooner rather than later, as Clay had implied the day before at the Redwood, then it was also time for him to start acting like it.

But when that black Mercedes pulled into T-M's lot, the loose grip he'd had on his control just about slipped free. His jaw clenched as the Mercedes parked right next to the truck and he folded his arms across his chest, waiting impatiently to get this show on the road already.

Tig materialized next to his shoulder, never one to miss an opportunity and Jax was almost surprised he wasn't rubbing his hands together like the sick bastard he was.

"How much you wanna bet this broad is smokin' hot?" Tig leaned into his shoulder to whisper conspiratorially. "What's her name again...Natasha? Or no, wait -it starts with an E or somethin' exotic like that, right?"

"Fuck if I care," Jax shook his head. "I just wanna get this over with already."

"Aw, come on, bro," Tig cocked an eyebrow at him. "You tellin' me you're not a little bit curious about what you're gonna be stuck with up in the cabin?"

Before Jax could even muster up a response to that sort of irrelevant question, one of the passenger side doors opened and a leg ventured out onto the pavement. The patent leather, over-the-knee stiletto boots were really the first indication of what he was dealing with here. Next was the curtain of dark, almost black, long, loose curls. Coupled with tight black leggings and a grossly expensive-looking black leather jacket, Jax knew all his previous suspicions about Nikolas Putlova's sister were absolutely correct.

All he could do was rub a hand over his mouth and mutter: "Fucking mafia princess."

Tig cocked a suggestive eyebrow his way, making zero effort to hide his delight at this new, albeit unsurprising, development. "What's Russian for me-ow?"

When the only response he received was a withering glare, Tig slapped him on the shoulder and rose his eyebrows suggestively. "Consider it a silver lining when you're stuck in that cabin with nobody else to look at but the FMP's fine ass and Bobby's ugly one."

Even if Jax could have voiced the notion that the last person he wanted to be stuck in a cabin with in the middle of nowhere was the girl standing a mere ten feet away from them, he wasn't about to give Tig the satisfaction of admitting it.

"Gotta admit, bro," Tig jutted his chin out towards the girl again. "I'm a little jealous of ya right now."

Jax huffed out a laugh. "This isn't exactly gonna be a vacation for me."

Luckily, Clay was already motioning for him to join the small group assembled by the truck and the Mercedes, so Tig didn't have a chance to throw back yet another comment about how hot the FMP was. This girl clearly knew how to put herself together, but it wasn't as if he'd never seen a good-looking girl before and this one was no different than the rest.

To her credit, the girl -whatever her name was- seemed to be very aware that she'd essentially stepped into the lion's den, so to speak, and her dark, heavily-lined eyes darted between the leather kuttes descending on her with growing apprehension. So, it appeared as if she wasn't a complete idiot, but considering the circumstances, namely the fact that he wanted to be anywhere but here right now, the girl herself was nothing more than a means to an end for his club.

Anything else about her was irrelevant. And judging by what was standing in front of him, that wasn't about to change anytime soon.

* * *

><p>As the Mercedes pulled into the parking of Teller-Morrow Auto Repair, Ekaterina Putlova's heart just about leapt into her throat. Every mile that had passed her by on the road to Charming was just one more reminder of what she'd left behind and what her brother believed was trailing after her. Of course, it hadn't helped that with every mile that passed between Nikolas's safe house and Charming, her paranoia only seemed to multiply exponentially.<p>

Every time she looked over her shoulder, she couldn't shake the feeling that something, or rather, someone, was hot on her heels. But then again, she couldn't remember the last time she'd looked over her shoulder and felt anything other than fear. And now, with the car pulling up next to the truck that was surely going to transport her to yet another safe house, she still couldn't shake the jittery, uneasy sensation settling at the pit of her stomach.

While Nikolas had sworn up and down that the Sons of Anarchy were their only option, judging by the rough men staring ominously at the car with their tattooed arms folded across their leathered chests, it was hard to actually believe that.

"_I just don't understand why I have to leave," _she'd pleaded, tears stinging her eyes. "_I can't believe that I'll be safer anywhere else than with you."_

Nikolas had pulled her tightly against his chest, holding her as if he was worried it might be the last time. "_I know...if there was any other way, if there was any other option, I would do it. But I don't have a choice, Kat. I have to make sure you're safe and if you're anywhere near me right now, you won't be."_

In her mind, the logic just didn't add up. The very idea that she'd be safe anywhere but with her brother was next to impossible to wrap her head around. As far as she was concerned, safe houses were called safe for a reason, so why was the safe house her brother had whisked her away to not enough? Once the initial shock had worn off that this was really happening, that he was really sending her away, her emotions were in a tug-of-war with each other, pulling her in every direction.

On one hand, she couldn't help but feel anything except bitter hatred towards the men putting both her and Nikolas in this position. If only her bastard of a father hadn't auctioned her off to his second in command, if only her so-called fiance wasn't such a violent son of a bitch...so many things would be different for her right now. And she certainly wouldn't have had to run to her brother with not one, but two explosive secrets. Kat squeezed her eyes shut as the image of white-washed walls and sterile floors flashed across her mind and quickly shoved it aside, refusing to let these bikers see her cry.

She understood why Nikolas needed to hide her from Dimitri. If he were to find out...if he were to somehow figure out what she'd done...there would be no mercy, no hesitation. It would be over for her before she could even take her next breath and Nikolas knew that just as surely as he knew the majority of _vors _still left in the _bratva _could not be trusted.

_Reality is a cold bitch, _she mused as she surveyed the men standing by the truck.

The only reason she was here was because Nikolas wasn't safe either. With just a handful of men he could actually trust, it was very possible his days were numbered -just like her father's had been- and she could sense her brother knew it, too. After all, why would he send her away, to a gang of bikers no less, if he wasn't a target? There was no telling what he was dealing with in the _bratva _now that her father was dead and buried. There was no telling how long those still loyal to her father would actually allow him to remain the _pakhan_.

But he'd always protected her and went to battle for her since they were children, and over these last few weeks and months, Nikolas had had to fight harder than ever before. Whisking her away from one crisis and then from another, he'd selflessly put her well-being before his own...because if Dimitri found her, if he learned the secret Nikolas had promised to take with him to the grave, neither of the surviving Putlova family members had hope of living for much longer.

Now, all she could feel was fear. Fear for her brother. Fear of being discovered. And fear of these domineering, bearded bikers in their leather vests. Nikolas promised her these men could be trusted, that he was paying them too much money for them to turn their allegiance elsewhere, but she also knew he didn't really know any of these men from Adam.

For the first time in her life, she feared that deferring to her brother's judgment could cost them both their lives. All she could do now was hope and pray that his trust in this biker gang hadn't been misplaced.

So when her brother's driver put the Mercedes in park, there was only one option available at this point: get her ass out of the car and into that truck. Too bad putting one foot in the front of the other proved to be the biggest hurdle.

The only thing keeping her from high-tailing it back into the Mercedes was mentally going over the information she already knew. _I'm going to their cabin an hour away from here, _Kat told herself as she swung a leg out of the car. _All they know is that I'm in danger from Dimitri and the rest of the _bratva. _Nikolas didn't tell them anything else...nothing they could potentially use to their advantage, at least, _she sucked in a hollow breath as she surveyed the men staring back at her with grim expressions.

_Well, _she thought, _minus Crazy Eyes. He looks way too excited about all this to be normal._

But when her eyes fell on the taller, bulkier man standing next to the one with the crazy eyes and even crazier hair, Kat's heart stuttered in her chest. He was just standing there in a black zipped-up sweatshirt, arms folded into his sides, and glaring at her like _she _was the enemy, like _she _was the untrustworthy one. With his buzzed blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and chiseled, almost perfect features, he would've been drop-dead gorgeous if he wasn't glaring at her like he'd loathed her on sight. Like he wanted to unfold those arms, which she had no doubt could probably snap her neck like a twig, and strangle her with his bare hands.

And here she'd thought Dimitri Novikov was the stuff of nightmares. This particular biker was right up there with just one menacing glare. How was it possible to exude such aggressive malevolence when he'd barely moved from that spot on the pavement?

Inhaling shakily, she chewed on her bottom lip as she averted her eyes away from the chilling vibes practically shooting out of the man's stormy blue eyes. It was much easier, and far less terrifying, to turn her attention to the other two men standing closer to the truck. As she ventured towards them, teetering on her boots and cursing her too-tight ankle wrap, a touch of relief washed over her when the two men met her halfway.

As the men came into clearer view, her eyes scanned over the leather vest until she found the 'president' patch on the taller, gruffer-looking man with salt and pepper hair. Even though the other, more stockier man with his wiry hair was wearing a black sweatshirt too, and not a leather vest with patches to identify him, it was safe to assume this was the vice-president. Each man gave off an air of authority and experience that told her these were the ones in charge and these were the ones who would also hold her safety in their hands.

And since she already knew the vice president was one of the men staying with her at their cabin, she had to admit she felt a little more at ease knowing that this particular biker would be one of the men at the cabin. There was something about him, something softer and kinder, that made her feel just a little bit safer.

At that thought, her eyes flew to the looming blonde figure just off to her right, who was still chopping her to bits with that clenched jaw and those lethal eyes, and just as the alarm bells sounded off in her head at the sight of his black sweatshirt, the president extended his hand to her.

"Hey there," he smiled tightly as his hand engulfed her much smaller one before gesturing to himself and then to his companion. "I'm Clay, that's Bobby. He's gonna ride with you in the truck. And…"

Samcro's president trailed off as he looked over his shoulder towards the two bikers lingering off to their right. _Please say Crazy Eyes...please say Crazy Eyes, _she thought desperately. _I don't care if that one looks like he wants to eat me for dinner...it's better than the one that looks like he wants to shoot me right where I'm standing._

Kat's eyes widened with dread as Clay pointed to the nightmare in the black sweatshirt.

"That's Jax," Clay told her, oblivious to her reaction. "He's gonna follow you guys on his bike."

So the devil had a name. Great.

**Russian Translation**:

_Vors - "_thieves", or soldiers, that make up the Russian mafia in its entirety

* * *

><p><strong>AN-So, were you expecting their reactions to each other? I've been having a lot of fun writing these two characters hate each other (at least for the early chapters of this story because they can't hate each other forever) and I can't wait to share that with you. The background/set-up is sort of done now with this chapter and the next chapter will see some serious action as Jax, Bobby, and Kat make their way up to the club's cabin. Anyone think it's actually going to go smoothly? Yeah, that's what I thought.**

**I've gotten a lot of questions about Wendy/Abel/Tara and hopefully, this chapter answered the majority of those questions. The details surrounding Tara's exit from Charming and the circumstances involving Wendy and the baby will come out in later chapters, so, it's really the memories/past that are going to affect Jax the most here. Tara and Wendy will not be making an appearance in this story. They're already out of Jax's life, but the pain is most definitely still there for him. Also, I've been asked a lot about the status of "Carry You Home" and that will definitely continue. I'm about half-finished with the next update, so I'm hoping to have that posted in the next week or so.**

**Anyways, I can't wait to hear your thoughts on Jax and Kat's first meeting! Let me know what you think: thoughts/comments/ideas/predictions...anything! Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed/alerted/favorited!**


	4. Horses and Destinies

**SANCTUARY**

Chapter Three

"_Even with a horse, you cannot escape your destiny."_

-Russian Proverb

_Tuesday, October 29, 2010_

She should've known the second she laid eyes on that black sweatshirt. Well, maybe she had known, she just hadn't wanted to admit it.

Yet as the two bikers in black sweatshirts effectively took their place next to their president, it seemed her fate was irrevocably tied to the chubby man in front of her and the murderous one behind him.

Here, yet again, the logic just didn't add up. Nikolas had told her the vice-president and the club treasurer would be going with her to the cabin. That the man who resembled a disheveled Santa Claus was also Samcro's vice-president made sense. Given his age, the road-weary lines on his face, and where he was standing right now, Bobby seemed like an obvious candidate for a high-ranking position within their club.

The other one...Jax...she swallowed nervously just _thinking _the name, seemed more like an enforcer or a hitman even, rather than a treasurer, of all things. He looked more apt to pummel the living shit out of anyone who got in his way than someone who would have any sort of capability with numbers.

Suddenly, Bobby was reaching for the bag in her hands and slung it over his shoulder with the first show of welcome and friendliness that she'd seen since stepping out of her brother's car. He shot her an amiable, good-natured grin as he tossed her things behind the passenger seat. From the looks of it, they'd stacked enough bags of food and supplies back there to sustain them for several months...Jesus, how long was she really going to be marooned up north with these men?

Just the thought of an infinite amount of time stranded in a cabin with someone like Jax, who stood still as a statue behind Bobby, glowering at her like she'd just peed in his Cheerios, was enough to seriously consider just getting back in her brother's car, regardless of consequence. She couldn't imagine a scenario where being in close proximity to someone like him would actually be tolerable, let alone pleasant. But at least she had her…

"Got your phone handy?" Clay was saying to her now, hand extended.

She frowned, not liking where this was headed, and nodded numbly.

Clay huffed out a laugh and shared a grin with Bobby. "Well, can I have it?"

"Wait a minute, you can't -"

"Can't take the chance someone's got a tracker in your phone, sweetheart. Hand it over."

Kat stared at him like he'd just sprouted a second head and despite her better judgment, her eyes slid to her would-be executioner. For the first time since she'd stepped foot on their property, his lips curved up into a grin, but there was little warmth to be found there. He was fucking _smirking _at her with his arms folded across his chest like her weak protest was the most the comical thing he'd heard in a long time. Well, fuck him.

That phone was her lifeline. Her one connection to the outside world when she was trapped in that cabin. All her music...all her pictures...those were the only things that could get her through this. If they took away that escape and those reminders of home, she didn't know how she'd survive these next weeks -or God forbid, months- without scaling the cabin's walls like a caged animal.

But as the club president continued to hold his hand out to her, motioning his fingers towards his chest to tell her to hurry it up already, she also knew she didn't really have a choice here. If there really was a tracker in her phone, then that pretty much defeated the purpose of whisking her up to that cabin in the first place.

So, she gritted her teeth to keep from making an even bigger fool out of herself and dug into her oversized hobo bag, pulling out her iPhone to hand over to the president. Clay didn't waste a second and turned it over in between his hands before promptly tossing it to her brother's driver.

"Better take that back with you," he told the driver, who managed to catch the phone right before it smashed into the pavement. "Can't take any chances."

No one needed to explain that particular kernel of logic. If there really was a tracker in her phone, then all it would do was lead anyone following her right back to Nikolas. When Clay gestured with his head towards the truck, signaling to everyone involved that it was time to hit the road, it was all she could do to muster a weak smile and a quiet "thank you". It wasn't like she'd expected anyone to roll out the red carpet for her, but still, given the icy welcome she'd received, it was getting harder and harder to feel any sort of gratitude for their efforts, especially when it was obvious money was the only thing driving said efforts.

Not like she could really blame them...but still.

Now, all she wanted to do was get this over with already. The sooner they got on the road, the sooner she could put all this behind her.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long because Bobby already had the truck's passenger door open and from the corner of her eye, she could see he-who-shall-not-be-named already swinging a leg over the side of his bike as he fastened his helmet. Once she was inside the truck, their small convoy headed out of the parking lot and onto the road just moments later.

And as everything around her started to blur into a whirl of white, yellow, and green, traitorous tears stung her eyes. There was no denying it now. This was what had happened to her life. She glanced to her left to find Bobby eyeing her carefully and quickly turned her head towards the window, eager to keep her emotions under lock and key for as long as possible.

Of course, it didn't help that as soon as she turned her head, her eyes locked on the looming figure on his motorcycle in her side mirror and she had to chew on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"How you doin' with all this?" Bobby's cautious, yet surprisingly kind voice called out from her left.

Kat laughed and in spite of the circumstances, found herself glancing back at him with a tiny smile. "I have to spend an undetermined amount of time in a secluded cabin with two men I don't know, who also happen to be part of an MC that I _also _don't know. How do you think I'm doin' with all this?"

To his credit, Bobby's entire body rumbled with laughter as he shook his head. "You're right. Sorry, sweetheart, I guess I didn't really think about it like that. My bad. But you know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded, a sad smile flashing across her lips. "I do."

"It's Ekaterina, right?" Bobby was asking now.

"Kat."

"Well, Kat, I suppose we should officially introduce ourselves, huh?" he shot her a cordial grin with a slight nod. "I'm Bobby Munson. Nice to officially meet ya, darlin'."

She smiled back, any previous tension long forgotten. "It's nice to meet you, too, Bobby. I'm sorry -I didn't mean to be a jerk before...I guess all this is just finally starting to catch up with me."

"That might be true," Bobby told her as he steered them onto the highway. "But I don't know too many people who'd do what your brother is doin' for you. There's gotta be some comfort in that."

All she could really do was swallow back the lump that had formed at the base of her throat and nod. Her loving, protective, and selfless brother truly was doing something extraordinary for her...and in the process very well may have traded her life for his own. Quickly shaking herself out of that particular rabbit hole of despair, her eyes once again darted to the side mirror. The image reflected back at her shouldn't have been a surprise, but the permanent scowl etched across that man's face still had her heart sliding right into her stomach.

"Family's gotta stick together," Bobby was saying now. "I definitely know a little somethin' about that."

When she still didn't say anything, choosing instead to continue staring blankly out the window, Bobby gave her a few moments of uninterrupted silence before jumping right into it again.

"So you were at Dominican for a couple years, huh? What were you studyin' there?"

Part of her wanted to roll her eyes right up to the ceiling. Of course they'd done some research on her...hell, if Nikolas hadn't had her on lockdown the way he did, she would've done the same thing on each and every one of them. Right about now, she was cursing the fact that Nikolas had essentially done exactly what Clay did -barred her from any electronic devices that could be traced to her- and in the process, inhibited her ability to figure out just who was going to be responsible for her well-being. And now, because Bobby had had an advantage she didn't, they were moving to yet another sore topic she didn't really want to talk about.

"Dance," Kat pushed out roughly, wincing at the way that word rolled so heavily off her lips.

He cocked a curious eyebrow her way. "Really? As in…" He did a little shimmy in his seat, which looked just as awkward as it was hilarious and if anything, she appreciated his effort to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," she laughed. "Like that. Sort of."

"So what was your, uh, area of study?"

"Contemporary ballet," she told him, unable to keep the wistful smile from her lips. Just saying the words stirred up a dull ache that had never truly left her, even though that door had officially closed almost four years ago. It also, unfortunately, stirred up a whole slew of nightmares that she had no interest in re-living, especially not here and now.

Thankfully, something -whether it was in her voice or on her face- must have told Bobby this wasn't exactly a topic she was keen on discussing with him, let alone anyone, and changed the subject.

"So what about now? I mean, when you aren't hiding out in safe houses and being whisked away to secluded cabins...what occupies your time now?"

The small talk was greatly appreciated at this point and so, she obliged him.

"Well, according to my father, my job was to show up when and where he needed me to and look pretty. Silent, but pretty."

She knew that probably wasn't the answer he was expecting and that she'd given it to him with just a little more bite than she'd intended, it was honest and since she had a strong feeling Bobby was going to be her one ally in the cabin, honesty was the best policy here. And, judging by the sympathetic line creasing his forehead now, that honesty was paying off.

"Well," he shrugged. "Families may have to stick together, but they sure know how to fuck everything else up, right?"

Her shoulders shook with laughter before she even realized what was happening and she found herself grinning back at the toothy one that had spread across Bobby's face.

"Speaking of families," Kat ventured, eager to glean some much needed information if he was willing. "I don't know much about how your...I don't know what the right word is to describe it...do you just call it your club? Your organization? I'm sorry, but I don't know the ins and outs of MCs the way I probably should."

Bobby just batted a hand at her. "Don't sweat it, darlin'. You can call it the club, Samcro, the MC, whichever of those tickles your fancy. But really, Samcro is an MC through and through. We're one-percenters all the way to the grave."

Even in the span of a few sentences, that was a lot of information to digest all in one sitting. "What does Samcro mean? I don't mean to be rude, but that sort of reminds me of some laws in the south I learned about in high school."

Thankfully, Bobby shot her a good-natured grin. "It stands for Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original. I know it's sort of a mouthful, but that's where the acronym comes from anyways."

"And one-percenters?"

"'Cuz we make the other 99 percent look bad, darlin'," he cocked her a goofy lopsided grin that forced a laugh out of her.

"I guess that makes sense," she chuckled. It wasn't exactly necessary to touch on what exactly the club did that made the other 99 percent look bad. After all, if they were in contact with the _bratva, _then it was safe to say Samcro wasn't exactly on the right side of the law either.

"It's more than that though. It's really about the brotherhood just as much as everythin' else that comes with it. There are only two of us that are actually related by blood, but the brotherhood runs thicker than that, you know?"

Hearing Bobby explain it like that almost made it sound appealing..._almost. _There were too many similarities between the club and organizations like the one her father had run, and the one her brother was attempting to run, too, for her to appreciate him waxing poetic about his club like it was the end all to be all. And even though she knew it also wasn't exactly fair to compare the two without having enough background knowledge about Samcro to truly make an informed assessment, it was still difficult to believe an organization like an MC could focus more on the brotherhood than the living they made from being one-percenters, and everything that entailed. So, she decided to switch the focus to yet another unhappy topic, but one she still needed some answers to.

"Can I ask you a question?" she waited long enough for Bobby to nod in response and then gestured with her head behind her. "Is he always like this or is it just me?"

Bobby chuckled heartily next to her and glanced over his shoulder at the devil incarnate in the black sweatshirt. "Ah...well, trust me, it's not you. Well, at least, not really. Jax has just sort of hit a rough patch lately and he's takin' it out on circumstances none of us can really control, ya know?"

_My life isn't exactly all sunshine and rainbows right now either, _Kat thought bitterly, _but you don't see me huffing and puffing around here like my problems trump everybody else's. _

"The easiest explanation, I guess," Bobby continued amiably, glancing over his shoulder one more time as he spoke, "is that his most recent experience in the pen was a little different than the rest of us. Let's just say...he almost didn't make it and he hasn't exactly been the same since."

Prison, huh? Well, she figured it was best just to tuck that little bit of information away for later. Even if Bobby was willing to volunteer any details, she wasn't so sure she wanted to hear them before they even got to their destination.

"But," he went on. "I think what you're seein' now has more to do with your dad and less to do with you, so, I wouldn't let his sorry ass bother me too much if I were you."

Seeing as how the only logical connection between her dad and the menace on the Harley was said menace's brush with death in prison, Kat wasn't exactly upset when she realized that was about all Bobby planned on telling her. And really, that was probably all she needed to know. Still, she'd spent the better part of her life trying to outrun her last name, to find some sort of identity apart from the crime and death associated with it, and it was disconcerting to know that even in death, her father's ghost still wouldn't let her go -that someone like that blue-eyed devil could hate her on sight just because of her last name.

No one ever said life was fair.

"I don't know," Kat allowed and lifted a shoulder, allowing herself on last look in the side mirror. "I don't care what anyone says...I've been around enough of my dad's lapdogs before to know that someone like _that," _she gestured with her head behind her to reiterate her point, "isn't used as a treasurer. I just have a really hard time -"

Bobby's guffawing next to her cut right through her words. He even had to put a hand over his heart to get his belly-laughter under control and all Kat could do was stare back at him, unaware of what she'd said that was so goddamn funny.

"Hold up," Bobby gasped between bursts and snorts. "You think Jax's club treasurer?"

Kat's head flew to her left, frowning at his words. And then...a little too late, the light bulbs flickered on inside her head.

"You mean _that _guy's the vice president?" her eyes widened with each syllable and Bobby just nodded, too busy wiping his eyes to manage another response.

"He look like the books-and-numbers type to you?" Bobby shot back, his belly still shaking with laughter and now, Kat tossed him a withering glance in annoyance. He just held up a hand and grinned at her. "Sorry, sweetheart. Academia isn't exactly Jax's, uh, strong point, that's for sure. Don't get me wrong -I love the guy, but the club treasurer he is _not_."

"How does a guy like him become vice president?" Kat wondered out loud and, realizing that both her words and her tone could be taken a myriad of different ways, quickly back-pedalled into safer territory. "I mean...he can't be all that much older than me, right? I know the only real experience I have in this sorta thing is with the _bratva, _but it seems pretty rare to me that someone so young would be in that position...unless the person above him was in prison or killed, like with my brother. It just made more sense to me that _you _were the VP, not the other way around."

Bobby just lifted a shoulder, like what she'd said and implied wasn't as offensive as she'd thought. "Yeah, I guess I see how you would think that. And I suppose you aren't too far off either, but that's probably another story for another day."

She wasn't really sure what to make of that, so instead, decided that another change of subject was in order. "So -"

"Hey, sweetheart," Bobby cut in suddenly, his eyes glancing up at the rear view mirror. "You ever get the feeling that someone is followin' you?"

"Everyday of my life," Kat answered, raising her eyebrows at such a direct question.

He shook his head and jutted his chin behind him. "Nah, I'm talkin' about right now. Behind you...you see that sedan about three cars behind Jax? Look familiar to you at all?"

Shifting her gaze to the side mirror so not to draw any unnecessary attention, her gaze followed Bobby's direction to the black sedan trailing a safe distance behind their two-part caravan. Although the tinted windows prevented anyone from seeing the passengers, the make and model of the car was one she was very familiar with. In fact, she'd also spent the better part of her life carted from one place to the next in cars just like the one behind them.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly. "It looks familiar."

"That's what I figured," Bobby admitted, a grim line crossing his features. "Hold on."

* * *

><p>Less than five minutes later, the truck, trailer, and the VP's bike were all parked in the next gas station that popped up on the highway. After watching the black sedan slink right past the parking lot's entrance, the two men responsible for her were currently huddled up by the side of the truck with their heads together. Fortunately for her, they were close enough to the windows that she could hear the majority of their conversation right through the glass.<p>

"You think they're just circlin' around or waitin' somewhere by the wayside for us to come through again?" Bobby was saying now.

"There's another gas station and a few restaurants about 10 minutes up the highway from here," the VP's gravelly voice murmured back and Kat could practically see him leaning up against the van, arms folded across his chest, pissed off at yet another problem in his life because of her. "So, my guess is those assholes are holed up there, waiting for us to pass through so they can pick up the tail again."

"So, whaddya think, Jax? Backtrack or hang out here for awhile until they give up and drive by again?"

"I think our best bet's pickin' up that highway a few miles back. Backtracking will take longer, but that way'll completely bypass them if they're still waiting for us down by the interstate."

_Well, he may be a complete dickhead, but at least he's not stupid, _Kat mused.

"Sounds good," Bobby added. "But maybe we wait a little bit, see if those vultures decide to circle back this way?"

Kat didn't hear the response, but figured that was as good as any. If it looked like they might be staying here for awhile, she might as well stretch her legs a little and use the restroom. Maybe grab something to drink for the road. So, when the powwow appeared to be over and Bobby, the smart man that he was, took the opportunity to top off the gas, Kat figured this was as good a time as any to take that break. But when she moved to get out of the truck, she barely got the door half-open before something -or rather, someone- was pushing it right back towards her.

"Stay in the truck," the blue-eyed asshole growled and it was anything but reassuring to see that his permanent scowl had yet to budge.

She blinked once, not entirely sure where to lay all her focus at once: the first, albeit angry, words he'd bothered to speak to her or the way he was glowering like everything she did pissed him off. Then, something snapped as the urge to shrink away from him gave way to the equally strong urge to fight back. But instead of addressing Jax directly, she rolled the passenger side window down so Bobby could hear her. A little passive aggressive maybe, but it was better than nothing.

"I just want to run in to use the bathroom and grab something to drink. Is that okay?" she called out to him.

When Bobby just shrugged from the other side of the truck, where he was still pumping gas, Kat didn't hesitate to push the door open and mentally fist-pumped as the door collided right with Jax's back, knocking him forward ever so slightly. _Yeah, take that, you evil jerk. I'll go to the bathroom if I want to._

It was too bad that victory lasted all but two seconds because when Bobby jerked his head towards the gas station, it could only mean one thing.

Jax seemed to realize it around the same time she did and he shot Bobby a dirty, exasperated glare before lifting his eyes to the sky. Not wanting to hear anything the douche in black might say in response to this development, she quickly scrambled out of the truck to head towards the gas station. He was hot on her heels -pretty literally- in less than two seconds flat, coming up right behind her in a way that was too close for comfort.

Much too close for comfort.

Maybe he was trying to make it look like they knew each other so not to draw attention to them, but still...Kat was a little surprised he wasn't holding her elbow in a vice-grip or pulling her inside by her hair.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder only to find that Jax had crowded her personal space even more. That moment of distraction, albeit brief, was enough to lose concentration on the task at hand and her heel unceremoniously caught on a crack in the pavement.

And that was pretty much all it took to tweak her ankle, wrap or not, and as she struggled to regain her footing, Jax slammed right into her back. She would've pitched forward and landed right on her stomach if it weren't for the fact that Jax's hands gripped her hips, a little too roughly, and easily set her back on her feet with little effort.

"Thanks," she murmured over her shoulder.

The only response she got was: "Just keep walkin'."

Needing some space between her and this man with blue ice in his cold eyes, she hobbled forward fast enough to get to the door without looking over her shoulder, ignoring the throb in her ankle, and made a beeline for the bathroom as fast as her feet -bad ankle and all- could carry her. As soon as the bathroom door closed behind her, Kat wasted no time before sliding off her right boot to massage her already swollen ankle.

_Jesus Christ, _she shook her head as she unwound the wrap, _that's all it takes now is one crack in the pavement and this worthless thing is shot again. _

Of course, she'd probably been asking for trouble just by wearing these boots...but she just couldn't help it. They were her favorite pair and, even though it wasn't like she was exactly trying to impress anyone, it was practically in her blood to want to put her best foot forward, so to speak, with every opportunity she had. But right about now, she was cursing both her ankle and her boots, especially when a fist pounded angrily on the other side of the door and she hadn't even really gotten a chance to actually _use _the bathroom yet.

"Let's go," Jax's impatient, muffled voice called out from behind the door.

_What, is he my prison guard now? _

She shook her head and finished up her business as quickly as humanly possible before flinging open the door to find Jax leaning against the wall, just inches away from the door. Without so much as a glance his way, Kat ventured back out into the gas station's shopping area. Unfortunately, her dark shadow didn't feel the need to relent in his helicopter-like hovering and trailed after her as she perused the candy aisle with even less consideration to her personal space than before.

It was like every attempt she made at putting some space between them was thwarted at every turn. Every step she took in the opposite direction he matched pace for pace until she could practically feel his hot breath on her shoulder. And when she dared a glance over her shoulder, she found him staring back at her with an evil, lopsided grin curving up on his lips.

This asshole knew exactly what he was doing. He _knew _his proximity was making her uncomfortable and now he was just egging her on, as if to see just how far he could push her before she gave him the reaction he was looking for. The absolute _last _thing she planned on doing was give him the satisfaction of showing him just how much his closeness was rattling her.

Shopping time was officially over.

Even as she shuffled up to the cash register, trying her best to hide the slight limp in her right foot now, he was still less than a foot away from her back. With a wary glance to her left, she set down a bottle of water, a travel-size bottle of aspirin for her ankle, and a bag of sour gummy worms to share with Bobby in the truck.

Jax leaned his elbows up on the counter, knocking elbows with her in the process, and cocked an eyebrow at her as he scrutinized her purchases. If he thought she was sharing her sour gummy worms with him, he had another thing coming to him. Bobby would see the fruits of this particular labor because he was actually nice to her. Jax...not so much.

But when she moved to the right just a hair to give herself a tiny bit more breathing room, Jax followed suit, refusing to back down from his little game of seeing just how nervous he could make her. The only thing she could do to give herself some space was shift her weight to her bad ankle, which sucked, but was a necessary evil so she could turn her shoulder and dig into her bag for her wallet.

There wasn't just one set reason why she couldn't let him win right now. Maybe it had more to do with the fact that Jax had all but glared at her like he wanted to murder and dismiss her as worthless at the same time. Or maybe it had everything to do with the fact that this man, who had no right to be this gorgeous, had just pulled out all the stops to make her feel as uncomfortable and as unwelcome as possible all in the span of under an hour.

When you added in the fact that she -not her father, brother, or anyone else that was on Jax's shit list- had literally done nothing to him to warrant this kind of treatment, that just steeled her resolve to stand her fucking ground.

If he wanted to try to get along for the next weeks, months, or whatever, that was fine. But if he wanted to play this game, she could do that too.

She'd just shoved the aspirin and gummy worms in her bag and snatched the water bottle off the counter when she stopped short, forcing Jax to once again smack right into her back.

"What now?" he muttered under his breath, but the tone and the words were the least of her worries right now.

Kat's eyes locked on the black sedan creeping into the parking lot as she turned her head towards Jax, oblivious to the fact that his hands had closed on her hips to force her forward. "Is that -"

The rest of that sentence died in her throat as the sedan's passenger side window slid down to let the barrel of a gun poke through. And just like that, all hell broke loose as gunfire rippled through the side of the truck, narrowly missing Bobby's head. The hands on her hips shoved her down and away from the door and, with bullets still flying out in the parking lot, Kat barely realized that Jax had crouched next to her, almost as if he were shielding her from what had erupted around them.

His hand closed around the side of her head to push her even further down from the gunfire and he had extended his neck to the store's window just enough to get a look at what was happening in the parking lot and most likely, what had happened to Bobby. But when he turned back to face her, gone was the hostility he'd previously sent her way and in its place was just pure survival.

Gesturing with his head for her to dare a glance out the window, she followed his lead, raising herself up to his level. All the breath left her lungs when her eyes found the three dark-haired men in expensive suits inventorying the parking lot.

"Those guys look familiar?" Jax murmured to her.

All she could do was nod blankly because the reality of this situation had numbed her to much else. Here she'd thought she was safe, that her brother had take care of everything, that she wouldn't be found...but she had to get to that cabin first in order for that to happen, and now, judging by the familiar faces stalking around the pavement -edging closer and closer to the gas station's entrance, that might've been the biggest hurdle of all.

"We gotta run," Jax was telling her now, giving her high-heel boots a pointed death-glare, "and you gotta stay right behind me. No matter what happens, alright?"

She had those damned boots off before he was even finished with those clipped instructions and, a beat later, he was hauling her up underneath her sides, keeping her head down as they rushed past the counter and back into the hallway.

Just as the front entrance doors burst open, Jax had already gotten them to the backend of the gas station, reaching behind him with one hand closing around her wrist to pull her along and the other tucking underneath his waistband for a gun. She barely had time to register the sight of the gun in his hand, or the fact that knowing he had one immediately made her feel that much safer with him, because he was barreling his way through the first back exit he could find and dragging her right behind him.

They scaled along the sidewalk on the side of the gas station and Kat's heart thudded in her chest at the high-pitched scream that ricocheted from the inside. Jax glanced over his shoulder just once, as if to make sure she was still in one piece behind him, yanking her wrist to force her to duck lower against the wall. As they crept up to the outside corner, Kat peeked over the top of Jax's shoulder, her eyes anxiously scanning the length of the pavement for Bobby, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, Jax was backpedalling from the corner and then his free hand nudged at her hip to signal she needed to follow. And as he glided right for the first car parked on the side, she knew exactly what his plan was. It wasn't half bad...if he could get them out of there before Dimitri's minions caught up to them. Her heart plummeted to her stomach when Jax tried the green Civic's door and came up empty. Unfazed by that failure, he just led them over to the next parking space, where a Bronco waited.

"Second time's the charm," Jax murmured under his breath, pulling open the driver's side door and hoisted her into the truck before him, pushing her over to the side as he climbed in after her.

As Kat's eyes darted back and forth for those dark suits, a knife materialized in Jax's left hand and he expertly cut through the plastic by the ignition, yanking the red wires he needed a moment later. He stripped the wires like he'd done this a million times -and in reality, he probably had- and twisted the ends together, but when he touched them together, that spark they desperately needed right now was a no-show.

Straining her neck to get a glimpse over his shoulder, she watched him try and fail one more time before his roadblock dawned on her. The fix was a simple one, which, in her ill-advised rebellion against her father, had taken a little trial-and-error of her own to figure out.

"Twist the whole wire," Kat whispered to him.

Jax didn't even spare her a glance from over his shoulder. They both knew they had no time to waste here, but even now in these dire straits, it seemed like he had little intention of actually listening to her.

"Keep your head down," he replied before repeating the exact same method he'd just tried and failed at.

Kat shook her head furiously, pantomiming what she wanted him to do with anxious movements. "The one in your left hand -twist the whole thing, Jax. Do it!"

With a sideways glance in her direction, Jax finally obliged, bending his wrist and the wire in his hand just enough until that tell-tale spark jolted from the wires. All she got was one look of stunned surprise as he revved the engine once, then twice just to make sure, slammed the truck into reverse, pealed out of the parking space, and then they were hauling ass back out towards the highway.

Kat only looked over her shoulder once to prove to herself that Dimitri's lackeys weren't scrambling into the sedan to speed after them...at least not yet. There were only two reasons why they'd only aimed for the driver's side of Samcro's truck and why they hadn't stormed into the gas station with guns blazing to shoot everyone inside: Dimitri wanted to get her back and he wanted to get her back alive.

She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to allow herself to waste another moment thinking about that man, and leaned back into the truck's seat. They'd gotten away. That was all that mattered. And she couldn't let herself think about who could've gotten potentially gotten hurt during the initial spree or who they'd left behind. There was nothing either of them could do about that right now anyways.

"Are you gonna tell me how you knew how to do that shit back there?" Jax's rough, agitated voice called out to her from the other end of the Bronco.

Even though her eyes were closed, she could practically feel him studying her with a critical eye, most likely starting with the wrap still secured around her bootless right foot.

"No."

That was all he was going to get. He didn't get to treat her like she was the scum of the earth, regardless of what they'd just survived together, and then demand answers. Fuck him.

Now, all she could do was hope and pray that the next time she opened her eyes, the truck would be parked at the cabin and she could put at least one small part of this living nightmare behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-Well, they had to get to that cabin without Bobby somehow, right? Let's face it, things are about to get a whole lot more interesting without much of a buffer between them _and _they don't have their bags either. I know, that was pretty evil of me, but I'm pretty sure you guys are with me on this one. **

**This chapter gave us a little more of a peek into who Kat is between her ankle injury and grand theft auto experience. A spoiled, bratty mafia princess she is definitely not and Jax is going to find that out pretty quickly in the next chapter, which, I think you guys will particularly love when you see what Kat pulls on Jax ;)**

**Anyways, thank you so much for all the awesome feedback between reviews/favorites/alerts. I'm so glad you guys are liking this just as much as I'm loving putting this together. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! As always, look for another update next Wednesday.**


	5. Trust in God, But Lock Your Car

**SANCTUARY**

Chapter Four

"_Trust in God, but lock your car."_

-Russian Proverb

_Tuesday, October 29, 2010_

The drive from the gas station of horrors to Samcro's secluded cabin was less than twenty minutes thanks to Jax's breakneck speed in their stolen Bronco. If anything, they were just lucky they'd missed any cops that had most likely been called to the gas station and hadn't gotten their asses pulled over.

_Thank God for small favors, _Kat mused as Jax took them down a narrow, winding path into a seemingly neverending wooded area. They hadn't said much to each other in their whirlwind journey to the cabin and that was completely fine by her. The less they talked, the better, especially since the few times Jax had bothered to throw some words her way, they were laden with annoyance and bite.

When Jax parked the truck in front of a small cabin, he was already out of the truck before she even had a chance to open her passenger door and digging a phone out of his back pocket, flipping it open to make a call without so much as a glance over his shoulder. Clearly, he was no longer concerned about whether or not she was right behind him, which was more than okay. At least this way, she could take the opportunity to really survey her surroundings.

The cabin, true to its name, was exactly what she had expected. Nothing fancy or elaborate with its sparse windows, wooden paneling, and sprawling porch, but it was sort of homey in a way none of the safe houses her brother had holed her up in were. There was something almost inviting about it...which was surprising given who had just walked inside. Maybe it was the fact that they were truly were in the middle of nowhere now, albeit with a stolen truck in their possession, but she felt like she could finally let out the proverbial breath she'd been holding since her brother's car pulled out of the last safe house he'd kept her in.

It was around that time, when she stepped out of the truck, that she realized two things: the driveway beneath her feet was gravel and she wasn't wearing any shoes. Oh well...she figured there were probably worse circumstances she could find herself in.

_Oh wait, _she laughed to herself, _I'm about to walk inside this house where the devil incarnate is waiting for me. Not like he cares...but still._

Well, still, there were worse things than that. She was still hidden away from Dimitri's minions. She was still safe. For now.

It was that moderately comforting thought that propelled her to finally step out onto that gravel driveway. Figuring there was no reason to rush inside the cabin, especially since she could hear Jax's muffled voice, still obviously on the phone, so she took her time tiptoeing her way through the gravel. The last thing she needed was to tweak her damned ankle again and end up face-first in the gravel.

After a narrow miss between her good-for-shit ankle and a few larger pieces of gravel, Kat hopped up to the porch, landing carefully on the one good foot she had left. She pushed the screen door open to step inside, her eyes darting around anxiously for any sign of Jax, and found him leaning against the island in the kitchen with his back to her, still talking on his cell phone.

As soon as her feet crossed the threshold, Jax glanced over his shoulder and shot her one passing glare as he pushed off the island and retreated into a hallway. Obviously, whatever conversation he was having right now wasn't one she was supposed to hear. It was probably just as well...20 minutes alone in a stolen truck with him was more than enough, seeing as how she'd pretty much already reached her asshole quota for the day.

But as she sank down into the surprisingly comfy plaid couch in the open living area to unwrap her ankle, Jax's hoarse voice could still be heard from the hallway.

"They fuckin' ran Bobby off the road? Are you shittin' me?"

Kat's fingers froze over her ankle wrap, her eyes widening as all her attention landed right on the hallway on the other side of the cabin.

"Well, fuck...he's a lucky son of a bitch. Right about now, I think I'd give my left nut to trade places with him."

She rolled her eyes up to the wooden ceiling and shook her head. Well, at least that was something they could agree on. While there was certainly no love lost between the two of them, hearing him actually say the words out loud served no purpose other than to make her grind her teeth in frustration. What had she done that was so horrible? To him, especially? She didn't know him from Adam before today, so why was he treating her like she was enemy number one?

Bobby's words in the truck floated into her head: "_I think what you're seein' now has more to do with your dad and less to do with you, so, I wouldn't let his sorry ass bother me too much if I were you."_

Good advice, sure, and if her dad had truly wronged Jax in some way -most likely in prison- then she could understand Jax's disdain for Viktor Putlova because he deserved it. What she couldn't get past, however, was Jax treating her like an extension of her father. There was no one, save for Dimitri Novikov, that she wanted to be associated with less than Viktor Putlova, and the fact that he was making that association without actually knowing anything about her was enough to summon her own pitchfork.

No longer needing or wanting to hear any more of Jax's conversation, she pushed herself up from the couch, eager to have something to do other than sit here like an idiot. The best option at present was wherever Jax wasn't...so she meandered her way to the opposite side of the cabin, a move that served both her curiosity and her need to be as far away from Jax as possible.

The hallway on the other side of the cabin yielded four separate doorways. _Jesus, _she thought, _how many rooms does this place actually have? _It didn't really look big enough to hold this many bedrooms and the ones she was sure were on the other side, but she figured that was also probably the least of her worries right now. What she really needed was a bathroom.

Luckily, it only took two rounds of trial-and-error before she found it. Once she had the door closed behind her, she leaned against the wooden paneling for a few moments to gather her bearings. Sooner or later, all this was bound to catch up to her -being separated from her brother, Dimitri pulling out all the stops to get to her, and finally...being trapped in this cabin with no way out...with Jax- but now was not the time for a breakdown. Now was the time to take inventory, to be on alert, and to just fucking survive.

If she could somehow last these next few weeks -or God forbid, months- and if Nikolas was actually able to do what he'd promised, then she could leave this cabin, rebuild her life, and forget any of this ever happened.

So, figuring that no one would ever know, she went into sleuth-mode and stealthily opened up the medicine cabinet above the sink, casting a sparing glance over her shoulder as if someone was actually going to materialize behind her. But when she turned back to face the medicine cabinet, her eyebrows flew up into her forehead at what she found. Other than the half-empty tubes of toothpaste, some random, crusty toothbrushes, and a yellowed bottle of face wash, the only other item of note was the thick wad of cash just sitting nonchalantly on the bottom shelf.

_Hmm, _she mused, _that's interesting. _

Seeing as how curiosity had already gotten the best of her, she couldn't resist temptation and ducked down to pull open the cabinet underneath the sink. And aside of the dusty bottle of toilet bowl cleaner, there sat a perfectly good semi-automatic handgun, just waiting for the right person to stop by and snatch it up.

_Even more interesting_.

It wasn't like this new development was exactly a surprise. She knew where she was and whose 'care' she was under. This was the MC's version of a _bratva _safe house, so, of course they had cash and weapons stashed in random places just in case. It would be stupid not to. Finding the stash so easily was what surprised her the most, but then again, easy access was probably the name of the game for these guys.

After finishing up her business in the bathroom, she swung the door open again only to find Jax standing in front of the door with that ever-present scowl on his lips and a small pile of folded clothes in his hands.

"Hey, uh..." he started, still speaking in that dismissive, non-committal tone that made her want to punch him in the face. Then she realized he was trying and failing to come up with her name. What a prick.

"Kat."

A frown crossed his face and she fought the urge to roll her eyes up to the ceiling. It really wasn't that hard to figure out how one got Kat from Ekaterina, just like Jax was obviously short for something else too.

"Okay, uh, Kat," he pushed out and she couldn't tell if the frustration was coming from their current predicament or if it was just having to talk to her in general. "Look, I don't know when or if our bags are ever gonna get here, so you can have some of my old shit for right now."

Jax promptly thrust the pile of clothes into her chest with enough force to push her back a pace and then tossed her forgotten ankle wrap right on top of the pile.

"You left this on the couch. Figured you'd need it," he glanced pointedly at her right ankle and she swallowed tightly, hoping he couldn't see the jagged scars running across the top of her foot.

Underneath his mumbling, there was something else there that she couldn't quite place and even though his tone was cold, his words weren't. And...were these actually some of _his_ clothes? What the…? This was weird. Too weird and she had no idea what to do with this. She must've been just standing there, gaping at him dumbfounded, and for once, couldn't have been more grateful when he gestured with his head for her to follow him down the hall.

When he pushed open the bedroom door closest to the living room, she blindly stepped inside the room for lack of anything better to do.

"You can take this room," he told her in a cool, even tone that made her teeth grind. "I usually stay in one on the other side of the cabin, so I'm just gonna take that one. You can just...do whatever."

He shrugged like he didn't care what she did from here on out, as if other than keeping her here, he was off the hook now. No mention of food. No mention of just about anything else. And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked into the living room, leaving her to her own devices. Which, really, was just as well. Because if he expected her to cook _anything _for him, she was fully prepared to kick him right in the balls.

Now, with a pile of Jax's clothes in her hands, she stood in the middle of this foreign bedroom, staring blankly around the room. What the hell was she supposed to do now? Since she literally had nothing better to do, she tossed the clothes onto the bed and surveyed the room. Just like the rest of the cabin, the decor was sparse, but that wasn't really the point of this place. All she had now in this prison cell of a bedroom was a queen-sized bed and a nightstand with a lamp and digital clock on it. But…at least she had a window. Most prison inmates didn't have a window, so that had to count for something.

Her eyes fell on the pile of clothes in front of her and gingerly nudged it with the palm of her hand. It was just a pile of clothes. A pair of sweatpants and a few white T-shirts that said "Samcro" on them. That was it. So, why was she so afraid to touch them? And why did he feel the need to give her any of _his _old clothes? This place was obviously free for anyone in the club to use, so there had to be more options than just his stuff and for the life of her, she just couldn't decide how to feel about it.

At some point though, she'd have to reconcile with either wallowing in -and washing over and over again- the clothes she was currently wearing, or the ones Jax had given her.

And now, she'd just about lost her mind because she was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed to see what other treasures awaited her. Low and behold, a nine-inch Ka-Bar knife was strapped to the bottom of the mattress. Well, Samcro was nothing if not prepared. If a zombie apocalypse should hit mankind, they were probably better off than most here. The jury was still out on whether or not that was actually a good thing.

A loud, metallic roar and a crash coming from outside her window drew her attention away from the knife and the pile of clothes on the bed. From her vantage point, she could see that Jax had pulled up the door to a makeshift garage nestled near the cabin's back corner and was now backing an ancient Ford pickup out of the garage. She watched, with mild fascination, as he essentially swapped the Ford with their stolen Bronco in the garage. Moments after jumping out of the Bronco, Jax tossed a brown cover over it and promptly pulled the garage door back down in place.

_That was smart, _she allowed. Even if they weren't expecting visitors any time soon, it was still better to be safe than sorry. He clearly knew his way around grand theft auto...but then again, so did she.

The crunch of gravel signalled that Jax was on his way back inside the cabin and when she leaned in a little further towards the window, she could hear his muffled voice grow closer. _He's a little chatty Cathy today, _she laughed to herself. In spite of their near-miss with Dimitri's men today, it was a relief she could still laugh...especially if it was at Jax's expense.

In light of recent events and the fact that he had shown her a teeny bit of humanity -after all, he could've easily left her to her own devices at the gas station _and _he'd given her some of his old clothes- she figured that was probably the best she was ever going to get from him. Maybe it was just because her emotions were spent and any control she might've had over them had left the building around the same time they'd sped out of that gas station, but she felt an odd need to at least attempt to thank him for what he'd done for her today, regardless of if he'd really wanted to or not.

But as she crept out into the hallway, his muffled voice swept into the cabin more clearly, and Kat stopped short in her tracks at the words:

"I don't know, Clay...the FMP's a fuckin' pain in my ass already and it's only been one day. You sure you still wanna do this?"

FMP...what the hell was that supposed to mean? And then his last words had her frozen to the hardwood floor underneath her feet. Desperate to keep herself hidden as much as the need to hear the rest of this conversation, she leaned further into the wall as she inched closer to the door, where Jax stood outside.

"Yeah, I heard you," Jax went on and she could smell cigarette smoke wafting in through the screen door and now, his voice was tenser and more tightly wound than before. "Maybe I shoulda just left her ass on the side of the road. Hell, I still could...might be easier, ya know?"

Each word, bit out with that cold, dismissive tone had her clenching her fists against her legs to keep herself from slamming them right into the wall behind her.

"All we'd have to do is just call up any one of the guys Putlova's pissed off over the years...see how much they'd want for her and sell her to the highest bidder," Jax laughed...he fucking _laughed. _"Hell, I say we give Novikov a call. If he wants her that bad, he can have her."

Everything came to a stop as all the air evaporated from her lungs. Her chest tightened up like a vice and she couldn't get a breath in if she tried. Nikolas had told her Samcro could be trusted, that he was paying them too much money to betray him...but how well did he really know these people? Had he even met any of them before a few days ago? How did he really know Samcro, and everyone in it, could actually be trusted to do what they said they were going to do?

As her mom had always said, there was no honor among thieves. If it was really all about money for them, then there was no stopping them from selling her off to the highest bidder, as Jax suggested. Why wouldn't they? They didn't have anything invested in the _bratva_ and if there really was bad blood between them in the past, wasn't it possible that they could plan something like this...that maybe this had been their master plan all along?

And with that last, blood-curdling thought, Kat retreated back into her room.

It was time for a new plan.

* * *

><p>Kat glanced at the clock on the nightstand to her left and allowed herself one shaky exhale. 11:58. That was close enough. She'd told herself, when she'd crept back into her room, that she would wait until at least midnight, when she was sure Jax would be asleep. But after laying here, curled up in her clothes underneath these scratchy sheets, she just couldn't wait any longer.<p>

She had to get the hell out of here.

Gingerly tossing the covers aside, she gave her ankle wrap a quick check before sliding out of bed. Without needing to glance down, she reached underneath the mattress to pull out the Ka-Bar knife and deposited it safely inside her oversized purse. Then, she slipped out into the hallway and padded as soundlessly as possible into the bathroom. The medicine cabinet was open a few moments later and she blew out a deep breath as she stared at the wad of cash sitting on the bottom shelf.

Part of her wanted to just snap it all up...after all, they, particularly Jax, wanted to auction her off anyways, so she really shouldn't feel any guilt in taking what she needed in order to get herself away from them. But the notion of taking _all _the cash still didn't sit right with her either. She had some money of her own in her wallet, but that wouldn't be enough to keep her off the grid for long, so...she had to take some of it.

With a heavy sigh, she unsnapped the rubber band around the bills and then folded up half of them before sliding them into her purse. Once the money was back in its place, she moved to the cabinet underneath the sink and snatched the handgun without a second thought. This one was a no-brainer.

Next, she crept into the kitchen to continue her silent mission. After perusing the contents of the meager pantry earlier that evening, she already knew exactly what she was looking for. At the time, Jax had been sitting outside by the firepit listening to a decades-old radio and nursing a beer, so she was hard-pressed to believe he'd noticed she'd even been in the kitchen, let alone the fact that she was also inventorying the pantry. So, she had a container of peanut butter, a tin of mixed nuts, a can of beans, three cans of tuna, and three bottles of water all shoved into her oversized purse as fast as her feet -bad ankle and all- could carry her.

Her next order of business was to pad back into her bedroom to make her escape. After grabbing the quilt off the bed and folding it, she tucked it under her arm and slid her window open. Then she dropped the quilt onto the gravel underneath the window and mentally prepared herself for what was to come next and sending a silent prayer of thanks that years of practice had prepared her for this moment.

What she was about to do had the potential to end very badly for two reasons...she wasn't wearing any shoes and her ankle was still sore from tweaking it earlier today at the gas station. But going out the front door posed too big a risk -it was too noisy and too obvious. If she could just slip out the window, that upped her chances of getting gone without any interference and left Jax none the wiser.

The best choice was really the only choice and so, with a deep breath, she begrudgingly slid control of the situation over to God and hoped for the best. With that, she swung one leg through the windowsill and then the other, lowering herself down as slowly as possible to avoid noise and injury. Once both feet were planted firmly on the ground, she could breathe a little easier, but she wasn't done yet. She snatched the quilt off the gravel and made her way to the Ford pickup parked right outside the garage.

Luckily for her, and unluckily for Jax, her eagle eyes hadn't missed the fact that he hadn't locked the truck earlier. So once her purse and the guilt were stored safely on the passenger seat, she got right to work. That Ka-Bar knife was definitely earning its keep right now as it sliced right through the plastic next to the ignition and her fingers expertly groped for the wires she needed. Seconds later, the wires were stripped and she twisted the ends, pressing them together as she waited for that telltale spark.

Glancing over her shoulder, her heart thudded wildly in her chest, knowing she was just working off borrowed time now. She pumped the gas to try to rev the engine to life and grimaced when that effort failed. Shit, shit, shit...she was completely fucked if she couldn't get the engine started and so, in one last valiant attempt at freedom, she twisted her wrist, mimicking the trick that had saved her and Jax earlier that day, and finally, her heart leapt up into her throat at the sight of that golden spark.

Revving the engine one more time, she jerked the truck into drive...and only managed to get about 20 feet before the truck stalled out on her.

"Shit," Kat muttered under her breath as she shifted the truck in neutral and reached down for the wires that had drifted by her left knee. With the truck gently rolling down the long, winding gravel driveway ahead of her, she knew she didn't have much time now.

And just as her wrist twisted the wire in her hand, the driver's side door jerked open and a strong, calloused hand closed around her forearm to yank her right out of the truck.

With one arm pressing her to the side of the truck, Jax leaned inside to shift the truck into park and then slammed the door shut. Now, he was narrowing those furious shards of blue ice on her, piercing right through her, as both tattooed arms pinned her against the truck.

"Have you lost your damned mind?" he spat.

Once the initial shock slipped away, all that was left was the fury and bitterness that matched Jax toe to toe. After all, he -and his club- was the reason she was in this predicament in the first place.

"I'd be a damned idiot to stay here with you for another minute," Kat tossed right back, refusing to back down and matched his glare.

Jax's eyebrows flew up into his forehead and she could practically see the wheels in his head turning. "I don't know what you heard, but the plan hasn't changed. You're stayin' here until your brother Nikky says otherwise."

"I don't believe you and I don't trust you," she shot back. "Why the hell should I?"

"I don't give a shit what you believe or who you trust or don't trust. Get your ass back in that cabin."

He lifted his right arm to point towards the front of the cabin, giving her yet another domineering order, and she took that golden opportunity to rear her knee up, aiming right for his balls. It was just too bad that his reflexes kicked in at that exact moment and he angled his knees just enough to send her knee into his hip. His hands closed over her wrists into a vise-grip, pinning her arms back and leaning in too close for comfort as his chest slammed her into the side of the truck.

"That's enough," Jax growled and she had to swallow back the lump that materialized in her throat. He was too close...so damn close that their faces were just inches away from each other, that she could feel his hot breath against her lips and heaven help her, she shivered. "You've completely lost your mind if you think you'd survive for one day out there on your own."

"Fuck you," Kat bite out under her breath. "I'd rather take my chances instead of just sitting around here and waiting for you to sell me off to the highest bidder. Do you have any idea what would happen to me if Dimitri found me? What he would do to me?" she huffed out a bitter laugh and shook her head, "Who am I kidding? You don't give a shit...you don't care."

"You're right...I don't," he was grinning down at her with that smug, self-righteous lopsided grin and she wished more than anything that her arms weren't pinned down right now so she could slap that grin right off his face. "But let me tell you something, princess -you wouldn't last a full 24 hours."

"You're an asshole."

"I might be an asshole," he laughed, "but I'm also an asshole who knows a little bit more about these woods and that truck than you sure as hell do. Now, I've gotta give you credit for even gettin' that piece of shit Ford started in the first place, but as you can see, it's old as fuck and all it's good for is a short run into town for supplies. You'd be lucky if you got that thing 50 miles before it either overheated or died on you completely. Then you'd be stranded...with no cell phone, on foot and you're not even wearin' fucking shoes."

Her eyes drifted down in between them to her bare feet and swallowed. He was right...fuck him, but he was right.

"And," he went on, his grin widening when he realized his words were hitting their target, "forget Novikov or anyone else that you think is after ya. You'd probably be better off with any of them than alone in the middle of fucking nowhere. You'd be wishin' they'd gotten to you first once you saw your first bear out there. Or wolf. Or mountain lion. I'd say the _bratva _would be a fuckin' blessing considering what would happen to you once that bear has you in its claws. Hell, there probably wouldn't be anything left of you to identify your body."

Ignoring her stunned expression, he lifted a shoulder nonchalantly and reached around to open the driver's side door, gesturing inside. "So you know what? You wanna take your chances out there, that's fine by me. It would make my life a hell of a lot fuckin' easier right now, so why not? But before you do, ask yourself where you're really better off: in that cabin with me or in this truck by yourself. Your choice…" he shrugged, the expressionless mask on his face suggesting he meant every word, "I don't really give a shit either way."

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving the truck's door open behind him, and stalked back towards the cabin's front door, leaving her bewildered and dazed as his words bounced around in her spinning head.

He was right...that asshole was fucking right because she hadn't really thought this through. All she'd been focused on was getting away from him and away from the potential risk that he would actually sell her off to Dimitri. That's all she'd been able to concentrate on. Sure, the knife, gun, cash, and few supplies she'd smuggled out of the cabin would've helped, but they wouldn't have gotten her very far for very long.

A lone howl pierced through the silence, save for her thundering heart, and that was about all it took for her to snatch her purse out of the truck, throw the quilt under her arm, and scramble back towards the cabin with her tail tucked dejectedly between her legs.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-So, Kat is starting to show Jax some her 'true colors' here, so to speak and I think it's safe to say she's anything but the spoiled princess he thinks she is (even if it's going to take him a little bit longer to admit it out loud). They're still in the "I freaking hate you" stage of their relationship (lol!) but things are going to get a little more complicated in the next chapter, which will add a little heat to this story. Let's just say their 'relationship' won't be the same after that. **

**I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story! It's something really different for me from the background to the drama itself and I'm having a lot of fun experimenting with that. Please let me know what you thought of this! Your feedback is always so appreciated! Thanks again to alistensrude for being my reader for this back in August. Look for another update next Wednesday!**


	6. What You Go Looking For

**SANCTUARY**

Chapter Five

"_What you go looking for, you will find."_

-Russian Proverb

_Wednesday, October 30, 2010_

There were certainly better things he could be doing at 12:30 in the morning -like sleeping- but, as Jax took another pull from his beer, he figured shit could be worse. He could be chasing Kat down the mile-long driveway right now in nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. So yeah, shit could be worse. Glancing anxiously at the clock, he gulped down another pull from his beer and flicked some ash from his cigarette into the tray next to his elbow.

She'd been out there by herself for a few minutes already and as far as he could tell, hadn't attempted to restart the pickup yet. But still...the longer she was out there, the greater the chance she might actually be stupid enough to take off by herself, even after his not-so-subtle efforts to scare the daylights out of her.

The last fucking thing he needed right now was to have to call Clay -in the middle of the night, no less- and tell him he'd lost the girl after one day. Not to mention the fact that he'd have to admit _how _she got away and that, at this point, if she did ride off into the night in the club's own decrepit Ford pickup, he'd essentially _let _her get away too. He shook the irony from his thoughts and took another long pull from the cigarette in between his fingertips in an attempt to calm himself down.

_She's not gonna leave_, he reassured himself as his eyes flicked to the clock yet again, _she's smarter than that. _

It wasn't like Jax was all that surprised Viktor Putlova's daughter had the survival intuition she obviously did...he just hadn't seen it coming. Whatever she'd heard, whatever piece of the many conversations with Clay and Ope he'd had since they got to the cabin she'd taken to heart, he'd never anticipated that she would bolt on him. _Especially _like that. He'd been well aware there was a Ka-Bar knife underneath the mattress in her room, but for the life of him, he'd never even considered the possibility that she might not only find it...but use the goddamn thing too. Hell, when those scratchy sounds of that Ford engine gasping for life ripped him from his sleep, he was almost ashamed at how long it had taken him to realize what was actually happening.

The thought had just never fucking occurred to him. But then again, if Kat had really overheard what he thought she did, then he figured he couldn't really blame her. Still, chasing that Ford down for the second time in the span of 10 minutes wasn't exactly on his list of shit to do tonight.

So, when the screen door opened and closed behind him, a mixture of relief and cigarette smoke rolled off his lips. Finally.

There was no point in bothering to turn around. She was back inside the cabin, which, in the grand scheme of things, was really for the best. Despite the fact, of course, that neither of them were particularly happy about it. That was pretty much a moot fucking point right now because the situation wasn't exactly about to change anytime soon.

When he heard her shuffling -barefoot, no less- back down the hallway towards her bedroom, there were still a few things they needed to straighten out between them, and so he called out over his shoulder:

"I want my knife back."

He turned around, leaning back against the island on his elbows with his beer dangling from his fingertips, just in time to see her stop in her tracks. A slow grin of victory slid across his lips as he watched confusion give way to frustration and annoyance on Kat's dark features. Did she really think he didn't know which weapons the club kept here and where they were hidden? That he hadn't seen the Ka-Bar knife sitting in the driver's seat of that beat-up Ford? That he was a goddamn idiot and would actually let her keep that shit? If all those things were true, then it looked like they needed to have a little come-to-Jesus talk.

Better late than never.

Her mouth opened and closed, like she was trying and failing to come up with some semblance of a response and fuck, if circumstances were different, he might actually have thought it was sorta cute. But as it was, they were in _these _shitty circumstances and there was nothing about what she'd just tried to pull that was even remotely cute.

"My knife," he prompted sharply and held out a hand to reiterate his point. "Now."

When she still didn't move, like her barefeet were frozen to the wooden floor, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling and closed the short distance between them. Before she could protest, he snatched the oversized purse from her shoulder, backpedalling until his hips hit the island as he unceremoniously rifled through her things -both personal and stolen.

When he cast a glance back up at her, there was fire dancing in those chocolate eyes. Something snapped in him then; he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but that glare in her eyes roared something inside him to life.

"Hey," Kat groused angrily, advancing on him in a vain attempt to tear her purse out of his hands, "wait a minute, you can't just -"

Whatever she was about to say died in her throat as he pulled an awfully familiar handgun out of her purse and held it up high for her to see. She stilled in front of him again and with only a few meager feet of space separating them, he figured he could've easily reached out and pushed her away if he wanted to. But right about now, that fire, that defiance raging and smoldering in those sparking eyes drew him right in like a moth to a fucking flame and God help him, but now he just wanted to push her...in a different sorta way.

"This looks familiar," Jax smirked, liking this little game with each passing second. "Lemme guess...bathroom next to your room? Under the sink? Yeah, that's what I thought. Hmm...let's see what else you stole from me, shall we?"

With that, he tossed her purse onto the island's counter and shifted just enough so that he could keep one eye on Kat, who silently fumed just mere feet away from him, and the other on the items inside her purse. One by one, he set them up on the counter in a short procession that did nothing but prove just how smart this girl really was.

"Hmm...bottled water, peanut butter, tuna cans, nuts…" he couldn't help but cock an impressed eyebrow at her, "you really weren't kidding about wantin' to get the hell outta dodge, were ya?"

"Can you blame me?" she muttered.

"Not really," Jax chuckled and shook his head. "But shit, it looks like you tried to smuggle out the whole fuckin' pantry in your purse. And, what is this, now?" he held up a thick wad of cash and tossed it onto the counter. "There's gotta be at least $300 there. Where'd you get this?"

Just as she started to back away from him, clearly not liking where this interrogation was headed, his fingers closed around her forearm to reel her back in. Now, there were only a few inches between them and the smooth skin underneath his fingertips was severely clouding his judgment. Choosing to inhale right at that moment actually turned out to be a terrible decision because she smelled so sweet, like fresh strawberries, and that was only distracting him from his end goal. Shaking himself out of his sex-deprived stupor, he shifted his focus back on the matter at hand.

Still, right about now, he couldn't have pried his fingers from her skin if he tried.

"Were you gonna steal from my club?" Jax muttered lowly, reminding himself that he wanted to scare her, not fucking seduce her.

"Were you gonna sell me off to the highest bidder?" she countered, her chocolate eyes flashing in a way that just made him inexplicably want to draw her in closer.

"Nah," he shrugged, "I was just blowin' off steam. Clay's all about being a man of his word, so, don't worry, princess. You're safe with me."

Kat laughed bitterly and attempted to yank herself free of him. Too bad he had no intention of letting her go at the moment and so, he just tightened his grip on her forearm.

"Right," she laughed again, but there was no humor in her voice. "Like I'm really gonna believe that. I guess you're not gonna put that Ka-Bar knife back under my mattress, are you?"

"You think I'd actually let you keep that?" he stared back at her incredulously. "After the shit you just pulled on me?"

"What if it makes me feel safer? I think I've made it perfectly clear that I don't trust you and I think I have every fucking right to feel that way. So, if I'm really safe here with you, like you said, why can't I have it?"

She might've had a point there, but that didn't mean Jax was gonna let her win this one, not after what she'd just done. It was time she understood that she didn't call _any _of the shots here and, if he was being completely honest with himself, in light of the night's events, they both needed a less-than-friendly reminder that he was the one in charge, not her.

"Because I don't trust you with it. And until I know that you can actually handle a weapon, whether it's a knife or gun, you don't get shit until I say so. Got it, princess?"

She gritted her teeth and tried one more time to tear her arm from his grip. "Don't call me that, you fucking asshole."

"Whoa, you've got one helluva mouth on you, don't ya?" he grinned down at her, pulling her closer until their faces were just a few inches apart. "Didn't your mom ever teach you that swearin' like a sailor isn't very ladylike?"

As soon as those words left his mouth, he knew he'd crossed a line because that fire in her eyes, the very same one he couldn't break himself away from, erupted into a full-blown explosion, shooting sparks of chocolate-covered rage right at him. Then, as if he'd somehow stepped outside his body to watch this all unfold, he heard the crack of her balled up fist slamming into his left cheek before he felt it.

He stared back at her, stunned into submission for a fleeting moment, and then abruptly spun them around to pin her into the side of the island, holding her wrists down at her sides to keep her from trying that shit again.

"That was a good hit," Jax growled. "Feel better?"

"Yes," she snarled back in his face. When her eyes lowered for just a split-second and landed right on his mouth, his lips slid to the side in a dark smirk of victory.

"Good," he grinned down at her. "'Cuz you only get one freebie and princess, you just used yours."

The slight, angry curl of her lips just made his own lean even higher into that smirk of victory. This little game they were playing here was fun. Of course, she probably didn't realize she was the only one taking this confrontation seriously. It didn't take much to rile her up, even if he shouldn't have made that smartass comment about her mom, and he made a mental note to refer to her as 'princess' any chance he got...especially if the effort got him that reaction.

"Screw you."

"Really?" he cocked a curious eyebrow at her and leaned in a hair closer. "You're not gonna tell me to go fuck myself? Call me an asshole? Come on, princess, give it to me."

"You're not worth the energy," she fumed, trying and failing to jerk her wrists out of his grasp.

"Whatever you say, darlin'," Jax smirked down at her and dared to release one of her wrists long enough to place a firm grip on the side of her hip. "You wanna know what I think? I think you've got at least one more of my weapons and you're not hidin' it in your purse."

Her eyes flashed again and when her lips parted, clearly shocked at his insinuation, it was all he could do to keep himself from licking his own lips in anticipation. What the fuck was happening to him right now? He couldn't remember the last time, if ever, he'd been this wound-up, this violently wild and unrestrained because of a chick. The fact that they were both still fully-clothed made him wonder for a fleeting moment if he was just hallucinating this whole thing.

"You already found everything there was to find," Kat shot back.

Jesus, Kat was the perfect name for her. Fuck, did she have claws.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, daring to step as close to in between her legs as he could get without earning himself a knee in the balls. All he wanted to do now was just see how far he could push her, how far she would let him go, and then he would call it quits for the night. Well, at least that was the plan for now.

"You sure about that, princess?" he drawled, letting himself lean in one last time to get another heady whiff of her strawberry scent. "'Cuz I could always just frisk ya. I think we'd find out real quick if you're lyin' or not."

Kat's chocolate eyes had melted into a color more akin to caramel and were blazing bloody murder right back at him. "Don't you dare touch me, you asshole."

"Guess what?" he leaned in just enough to toy with her and then gestured with his head down to his right hand, which was still firmly planted around her slender hip. "I'm already touchin' you and I don't hear you complaining," his fingertips started crawling around the curve of her hip as he spoke, teasing and pushing until her eyes widened in a tell-tale combination of shock and arousal. "So...whaddya say? We settle this once and for all?"

With that, Kat jerked her wrists out of his grip and this time, he let her shove him backwards, putting some much needed space in between them.

"Aw, come on, darlin'," he goaded one last time just for good measure. "You know you'd like it. I bet this is the most action you've seen since you hooked up with Novikov, right?"

And just like that, he'd once again stepped over that imaginary line between them as all the light in her eyes died out. With that one sentence, he'd completely snuffed out that fire in her eyes and now, he was somewhere in between confusion and agitation at how fucking hot and cold she was running with him now. _Jesus Christ, _he thought, _pick a damn side!_

"Why are you being like this?" she whispered, gripping both hands on the counter behind her until her knuckles turned white. "What did I ever do to you? Why do you _hate_ me so much? I didn't do anything...I just wanna go home...I don't wanna be here either."

_I don't hate you, princess..._the words were right on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't bring himself to say them. For a moment, he could've sworn he saw her eyes glinting with unshed tears, but a second later, the moisture was gone. He didn't want to be here either and so, it looked like their little game was over.

Without any warning, he yanked the left side of his Samcro T-shirt up, charging forward aggressively until they were just a foot apart from each other again and her eyes were flashing again, but this time, there was more fear than fire.

"You see that?" he pointed to the jagged scar running along his ribs. "That's courtesy of your dear old dad. I wasn't even in Stockton for three weeks and that motherfucker had the hired help shank me right in the fuckin' phone line. I never saw it coming...didn't even know what was happening...all I knew was that I was bleedin' out on the concrete and he was to blame."

Jax let the edge of his T-shirt fall back down against his chest and blew out a furious breath. His eyes drifted over to the island, where Kat stood frozen against the counter, and the wide-eyed, stunned expression on her face wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough to repair the damage. Nothing would ever be able to replace the piece of himself that had died on that concrete floor so many months ago.

"I was in the hospital ward for almost six fuckin' months. Doctors said I was lucky to be alive and all that shit," he went on, feeling the roiling, pent-up emotions he'd bottled away begin to break free, "but all I could think about was that I wanted to get out of that goddamn hospital bed and outta Stockton, so I could kill Viktor Putlova. But I didn't get to do that, did I? I didn't the retribution I needed, that I fucking _earned _every day I survived in Stockton...just to find out that daddy dearest already bit it because of some fuckin' family drama that I don't give a shit about. So am I bitter about having to be here, babysitting the daughter of the man who almost killed me in prison? Fuck yes, I am. Your family is the absolute last family I wanna have anything to do with, let alone help. Trust me, princess, if I'd had a choice, if your brother hadn't dropped the biggest payday the club's ever seen right on our laps, I wouldn't be within twenty goddamn miles of this cabin right now."

Everything rushing back around him in swirls of crimson and all he wanted to do was just slam his fist into something. So, his only option was to just clench and unclench his fists into tight, white balls until he could get to that punching bag tucked away inside the garage in the morning. His lips curled back from his teeth and before he could stop himself, he whirled around on his heel and smashed his fist into the first thing he could find, which happened to be the top of the couch in the living room. Once the eruption was over, he fisted both hands into the couch, splaying his arms out over the top of it in a weak attempt to regain his bearings.

"Jax…"

Her soft voice called out to him and it was hoarser than it was before. Turning to lean against the couch, Jax ran a hand over his head before scrubbing it over his face. He'd said way too much...definitely more than he'd ever intended. The outburst had just been so sudden and had completely seized hold of all his faculties, especially his judgment.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Kat was telling him now, her hands still locked on the island behind her and her chocolate eyes searing right through him. "I can't imagine having to survive something like that. You're not the only one who has scars because of him and you're not the only one who's glad he's dead. I understand why you hate him. I would too, if I were you, but you have no right to lump me in with that man. You don't know the first thing about me and I know it's because you clearly don't give a shit and trust me, that's just fine, but don't assume you know dick about who I am just because of my fucking last name."

With that, she snatched her purse off the island and stalked towards the hallway to head to her bedroom, but not before glancing over her shoulder to give him one more shot of guilt:

"Just so we're clear, Jax," Kat informed him pointedly and he felt his heart inexplicably twist in his chest at the shards of ice reflected in her eyes. "Don't talk about my mother -or Dimitri, for that matter- ever again."

Seconds later, the door to her bedroom slammed shut and he winced at the sound. Scrubbing both hands over his face one last time, he pushed himself off the couch with a sigh, ready to pass out and forget any of this shit ever happened.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Kat rolled over on her side and groaned into her pillow. Her droopy eyes somehow found the digital clock on the nightstand and all that did was just make her bury her face in the pillow again. 6:47 was ungodly early, especially since she'd tossed and turned in this very same bed for nearly two hours after barricading herself in her room last night. Well, actually, it was technically this morning too, but the logistics of that did nothing for her aching temples.<p>

At this point, she figured she figured she had one of two options. She could lay here for the next however many hours and avoid Jax like the plague or she could put on her big girl pants and go to the kitchen for some coffee.

_Ohhhh, coffee, _her mouth watered at the thought_. Oh God. Oh sweet, sweet, God, that's exactly what I need right now._

And then it was hard to argue with herself. Sure, she could sit in this room for hours...but doing what? If she was going to be the adult in the situation, even though she was 100 percent sure Jax was older than her, she needed to get out of bed, make herself a pot of coffee, and refuse to share. That would teach him. Maybe then he would think twice before manhandling her up against a counter and threatening to frisk her.

What a goddamn, unbelievable bastard.

She shook her head and shuddered at the memory of those shards of blue ice levelled on her furiously, like she was the sole cause of all his problems in life, like he wanted to consume her and destroy her at the same time. That entire encounter last night was so fucked up she didn't know how to even begin to sort through it. There was just so much that was wrong with it, the way he'd spoken to her, the way he'd touched her, the way he'd backed her up against that counter like he was either going to smack her or wrap her legs around his waist...she didn't even know where to start.

And what she really didn't want to think about was the way he'd made her feel. His touch had seemed to scorch right through her clothes and the closer he'd leaned in, the hotter she'd felt and had hated him for it at the same time. Hell, she'd hated herself for letting him draw her in like that, for falling right into his game. It wasn't like he'd had to try very hard either. Just one touch, one rush of hot breath against her cheek, and she was practically trembling against him like a teenager.

The fact that he'd been able to manipulate her emotions so easily was enough to make her want to steer clear of him for as long as humanly possible. But, then again, this was a small cabin and sooner or later, she'd had to emerge from her room eventually to get some food and use the bathroom. It wasn't like she could exactly brush her teeth or probably even wash her hair, but she'd have to get in there sometime.

What had happened last night between them wasn't okay. In fact, it was far from okay. It wasn't even the same universe as okay. He shouldn't have touched her and she shouldn't have let him. And she shouldn't have liked the feel of his strong fingers burning into her hip either. But that was beside the point.

The only man she was certain she could trust was her brother and he was miles away from her right now. Instead, she was left behind with the MC's answer to Russian fury. The problem was now she'd seen him up close, she'd felt his skin against hers, and nothing about it felt the same as when Dimitri had levelled similar shards of blue ice her way. If that had been Dimitri last night, he would've whipped her around on that island, shoved her leggings down around her ankles before she could stop him, and taken what he wanted.

Even if that was what Jax had had in mind, even if that was what he'd really wanted, he hadn't done it. He'd let her push him away before it escalated. But before they'd reached that precipice, he'd seemed to come alive right before her eyes. Sure, the anger was still there simmering under the surface, but there was something else too. He'd played with her and pushed her right to the edge of what she could handle, and he'd clearly been enjoying himself even though he didn't know her, even though he didn't _like _her.

She didn't know what to do with that. Didn't know the first thing about how to interact with a man who was so impenetrable. Furious with her and toying with her the next. What the hell was that about? All any given woman would have to do was take one look at his face and that was all that would have to happen. He wasn't the kind of man that had to play games and he definitely wasn't the kind of man that ever had to work for it.

Men like that just didn't make any sense to her and that probably had everything to do with the fact that she'd spent her entire life surrounded by men, save for her brother, who could best be described as sexual sadists, who took what they wanted when they wanted, and who didn't understand the meaning of the word 'no'. In her limited experience, men saw women as a means to an end, as entertainment, as a vessel for their seed.

Kat shuddered just at the thought, pushing the memory of medicinal, stale, headache-inducing stench and those blinding, glaring lights out and away. Re-living that particular nightmare wasn't going to help her now. She was free now; Nikolas was making sure of that and...in a roundabout way, so was Samcro, and by extension, so was Jax. That thought still didn't sit well with her either.

Maybe the problem was that she knew, in the deepest, most shameful part of her, that if he had moved just a hair closer, if he had so much as brushed his lips against hers last night, she would've been a goner. And everything about that both infuriated and scared the shit out of her at the same time.

But she didn't have to grin and bear it anymore, she didn't have to close her eyes and just wait for it to be over. No, she didn't have to take any shit from Jax. He wasn't her father and he certainly wasn't Dimitri. She wasn't going to allow him to intimidate her.

So, determined to maintain some sort of distance between the lines that had so blatantly been crossed between them, she tossed the covers aside, and trudged out of bed to see about that coffee. Stopping just once to roll up the bottom of her -or, more accurately, Jax's- sweatpants, she fleetingly considered changing into her clothes from the day before just in case Jax happened to be up this early for the same reason she was, but then thought better of it. There was no way he was awake at this hour, not after last night, and so changing right now would just be wasted effort.

Sleeping in Jax's clothes last night was almost an even bigger dilemma than what had gone down between them, but eventually, sleep and the necessity for comfort won out in the end. The T-shirt and sweatpants just looked cozier than what she was wearing and she wasn't even going to allow herself to think about the way she'd brought the T-shirt to her nose to see what it smelled like. No...definitely not going there, especially not at this hour.

Because her mind was wandering to places she'd rather it didn't go, that absentmindedness propelled her all the way into the kitchen before she realized she wasn't alone. Kat stopped short in her tracks at the sight of the buzzed blonde head and full back of Reaper ink. The emblem was meant to be frightening, but it was also a symbol of belonging, not all that different from the tattoos any _vors _got within the _bratva_. Where a _vor _got his entrance into the _bratva _one tattoo at a time, it looked like the MC just got it all in in one swoop. The angry, black ink forming that ghostly Reaper on Jax's sinewed back wasn't meant to take her breath away, but it did anyways.

Just one more reason she needed to keep her distance. One more reason she needed to protect herself.

When Jax turned around with a steaming mug of coffee in between his hands, he froze and unfortunately, gave Kat a full view of his bare chest. Her hungry eyes didn't really know where to focus first, drifting aimlessly from the long chain around his neck with a bullet pendant dangling from the end to the red, angry scar running along his ribs to the finely-sculpted abdomen that made her mouth water.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This was bad. This was the opposite of what she was trying to do. And at this point, she was pretty sure he knew exactly what where her eyes were roaming right now. In fact, she was positive because a slow, cocky grin had already slid up the side of his lips. The very same lips she was having trouble tearing her gaze away from right now.

So, Kat did the only thing a self-respecting 25-year-old woman could do: she walked around the side of the island and starting rummaging through the nearest cabinet for a coffee mug, all the while looking everywhere but to her left, where a shirtless, infuriating blonde was observing her curiously. Suddenly, the cabinet door next to her flew open and a tattooed arm reached inside to pull out a mug, handing it off to her nonchalantly and without a word.

She slid the mug out of his hand, careful not to let their fingers come even close to brushing up against each other, and gingerly stepped around him to fill her mug with coffee. Once her mug was filled to the brim with pretty much the only thing that would bring her back to the land of the living, she padded around the island and leaned her elbows against the counter, determined not to let him see a fraction of how much he'd rattled her the night before.

But when she dared to look up from her mug, she found Jax's cerulean eyes locked on the T-shirt she was wearing and she felt hot, sweaty even, and had to pull the front of the shirt up to fan herself.

Finally, his low, husky voice broke through the silence: "So, uh...we're not gonna get our bags for awhile. At least not until Clay thinks it's safe."

She frowned into her coffee mug. "Okay...you told me that already."

"Right," he was chewing on his bottom lip now and for a moment, she almost thought he was contemplating an apology. "So, I was thinkin' of takin' that old Ford into town today to pick up some shit. If you want me to grab anything for you, just make a list, a'ight?"

That was it? There was nothing else he had to say?

Kat swallowed a gulp of coffee and finally nodded. "Alright. I'll do that."

He unceremoniously slid a pad of paper and a pen over to her, his eyes still searing right through the Samcro T-shirt she was wearing. "Better make that list then. I wanna make the run as soon as I can. And no, you can't come with me..."

He trailed off like he anticipated some sort of protest from her, but she got the memo loud and clear. Besides, she didn't really want to go anywhere or do anything with him right about now. Hanging back in the cabin while he went shopping was fine by her. So, she nodded back, biting the inside of her cheek in thought. She could probably spend the next 20 minutes daydreaming about all the things she needed to get through this stay, but unfortunately, none of those items were probably in the cards for her right now. If anything, she could kill for some bath salts right now...but then again, Jax would be the one picking it out and buying it for her.

There was something about the idea that just didn't sit right with her, as much as she didn't want to think about it. God, she'd kill for a few pairs of underwear too, but she had a feeling he would get a little too much enjoyment out of that particular errand. Besides, she didn't want his hands or his eyes anywhere near her underwear.

Finally, she opted to request a cheap, fresh bottle of face wash, a toothbrush, some razors, deodorant, and soap. At this point, she'd rather wash the one pair of underwear she had right now than give Jax the satisfaction of picking her out any new ones. Just the basics. That was all she needed and...she quickly scribbled down one other necessity and pushed her list back over to Jax.

His eyes scanned the list quickly before they jolted back up at her. "A book, huh? Just any book?"

"Yep. Preferably more than one, if you can spare the space in the truck."

"Alright," he nodded and folded up the list as he spoke, "I think I can handle that. I'm not so sure the razors are a good idea though. Don't want you getting any ideas and tryin' to slit my throat in my sleep or something."

Her eyes narrowed slightly and she crossed her arms over her chest to drive the point home that his joke wasn't even close to being funny. "Oh, I think we've already established that I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, don't you?"

"That's right," Jax retorted, his blue eyes gleaming with victory yet again and now, all she wanted to do was smack it right off his face. "You sure you don't need any other girly shit? No makeup? No hairspray? No tampons?"

_Well, now that you mention it, _she thought smugly, _don't mind if I do._

Before he could stop her, she leaned across the counter and snatched the list right out from between his fingertips, smirking back at him with her own secret victory.

"Fine," she grinned as she scribbled one last item on her list. "Have fun buying me tampons, jerk."

Jax's entire face seemed to drop right into his still-steaming coffee mug and he blinked blankly back at her as she bit back a laugh. "Hold up a second, I'm not actually gonna buy you -"

"Too bad," she cut him off in a bright, sing-song voice. "It's on the list. You have to buy it."

"I never said jackshit about -"

"Think about it this way," Kat leaned into the counter conspiratorially. "We don't know how long we're gonna be here, right? Do you really wanna deal with mood swings, PMS-ing, _and _me not having any tampons? Are you sure you really wanna do that to yourself?"

Jax's eyes just about popped out of his head and he blew out a deep breath before dipping his head down between his outstretched arms. He swore under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like, "fucking FMP", and then reached his hand out for the list.

"That's what I thought," Kat laughed triumphantly and took another sip from her mug as she backpedalled towards her bedroom. "Oh, and by the way, if I really wanted to slit your throat in your sleep, I would just use those steak knives behind you. You know what they say about Russians and their knives, you know? Thanks, Jax."

That was how Kat left him, standing at the island in the middle of the kitchen and glancing incredulously over his shoulder at the block of knives behind him. And she was laughing all the way back to her room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-Well, this was a little bit of a turning point for them because neither will be able to look at the other the same way after this (in a good way, of course). Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed/alerted/favorited -I really appreciate your feedback. Please let me know what you thought about this one! Look for another update next Wednesday.**


	7. Wooden Beds and Golden Coffins

**SANCTUARY**

Chapter Six

"_A wooden bed is better than a golden coffin."_

-Russian Proverb

_Wednesday, October 30, 2010_

Jax sighed heavily as his eyes shifted from the list in his hand to the scary, foreign items on the shelf in front of him. Just the sight of the multi-colored boxes -with God knows what inside them- was enough to make his stomach crawl. How in the fuck did this happen? How in the fuck did she manage to put him here?

Squeezing his eyes shut, he scrubbed a hand over the scruff on his face and gingerly opened one eye. Yep, he was still in the feminine products aisle. And he was still screwed.

No matter how he dissected this little dilemma, there was really no way he could win. If he bolted from this aisle now and came back to the cabin without any of these boxes on this shelf in front of him, there would be no living with Kat after that. And if he showed up back at the cabin with the wrong shit, even though he had no idea how he was supposed to know what the _right_ shit actually was, then he was still fucked. Anyway he looked at it, he was up a creek without a damned paddle.

But as his eyes darted begrudgingly back to the shelf, he had a strong desire to just cut and run. He had all the other shit they needed and had been purposefully saving this particular aisle for last just so he didn't have to walk around the grocery store with a box of fucking tampons in his cart. Besides, what in the hell was he so afraid of? He'd come back to the cabin without her tampons and then...what?

Jesus Christ, it hadn't even been two full days and this girl was already more trouble than she was worth.

Because if he was really being honest with himself, this whole little trip to the store in town was all just an elaborate excuse to put some space between them. After the lines he'd crossed the night before, after the way he'd pushed both of them right up to the edge, Jax had just needed to get somewhere -anywhere, really- where she wasn't so he could clear his head. Some sort of twisted, complicated fog had taken root in his brain and this time alone, even if it was just in a grocery store, was absolutely necessary to shake it free.

If he let himself ruminate on it for too long, if he let his mind wander back to how close she'd been, the way she felt pressed up against him, the way her eyes had sparked until chocolate flames reflected in her eyes, the heat floating between them...this was bad. Real fucking bad. And all because he just couldn't control himself. Because he just couldn't help himself. Fuck, he needed to get that in check.

The problem was that he knew all it would've taken was for her to lift her knees up just enough for him to hoist them up around his waist. That's all it would've taken and he easily could've ended up balls deep inside her on top of that island. That notion alone was enough to send him scampering off as soon as he could get that old beat-up Ford going long enough to get him away.

When he got back to the cabin, he had every intention of spending a few hours with that punching bag in the garage. Maybe he'd feel a little less psychotic then. After that, he was gonna eat -he didn't give a shit what Kat did for dinner tonight or any other night for that matter- and then he was gonna lock himself in his bedroom for the remainder of his time in this cabin. Putting himself anywhere in her general vicinity would just end up being a distraction. All it would take was one flick of her long, dark hair and he'd be fantasizing about what it felt like in between his fingertips.

That wasn't going to happen. Like he'd told Putlova before all this shit started, he didn't mix business with pleasure.

But last night he'd come real fucking close.

What he still couldn't wrap his head around was how he'd fallen down the rabbit hole so quickly. It had literally taken _one _encounter, _one _time that he felt her skin underneath his fingertips, and all common sense just flew out the window. One look at those blazing chocolate eyes. One glance at those lithe limbs wrapped up in those tight black leggings. One glimpse of that luscious mahogany hair that he'd give anything to run his fingers through.

This was completely ridiculous.

This was a job. That's all it was. He just needed to see this through to the end, make sure everyone got what they wanted out of this deal, and then he could retreat back to his house in Charming and forget any of this shit ever happened. Besides, Kat was nothing more than daddy's little princess and the apple of her big brother's eye. A spoiled, vapid mafia princess who didn't know the first thing what it was like to survive without daddy's money, but could just throw it down the drain on frivolous things like college or an iPad. Hell, she probably thought that rehab stint was a vacation.

The problem was that he'd convinced himself, without even laying eyes on her, that she was all of those things. His idea of her and the reality of her, however, were starting to feel like two different beasts altogether.

He'd only met a handful of people in his life that knew the ins and outs of grand theft auto the way she did. That little wire-twisting trick was one he'd never heard of before and he'd certainly had his fair share of experience in carjacking. And, it seemed, so did she. Stealing away in the dead of night with all the necessary survival provisions tucked away for safe-keeping was not the work of a novice.

There were other little ticks that had been nagging away at him too. Her ankle injury, for instance, and those jagged, purple scars on the top of her foot. Why any woman would bother with heels, ankle wrap and all, after a foot injury was beyond him, but still...the way she maneuvered around that particular body part told him this wasn't necessarily a new injury either. She was used to the pain and had adjusted to the weakness.

Not to mention the way she'd particularly spat fire at the mere mention of daddy dearest. She'd sure gone out of her way to suggest he was an asshole for even assuming a common last name also equalled common traits and even though he'd never admit it to her, he was almost inclined to agree just from the little observations he'd had. Almost.

What probably intrigued him the most was the two separate reactions he'd garnered from simple, smartass comments. Mentioning her mom, even just in passing, had earned him a right fist in the jaw. Daring to even speak the name of her supposed fiance had all but sucked the life and the fire right out of her. The questions were right on the tip of his tongue, but it wasn't his place to care enough to even ask them.

For all intents and purposes, Ekaterina Putlova was an enigma he wasn't so sure he wanted to decipher.

_Note to self, _he mused as he rocked back on his heels, _do not mention the mom or the fiance again. That's a can of fucking worms you don't want to open._

It was safe to say that whatever soul-searching his club president/stepfather and mother were hoping for him to get out of this little trip was definitely _not _happening now. Not with a fucking distraction like the raven-haired, chocolate-eyed mystery wrapped up in tight leggings back at the cabin.

"Excuse me, sir?"

That wispy, throaty voice coming somewhere from his left jerked him right out of those thoughts and he couldn't have been more grateful. But when his eyes fell on the tiny, hunched-back, blue-haired little old lady with crinkly eyes and an even crinklier smile, he glanced back at the shelf in front of him and winced.

Shit.

"Sir?"

Jax ran a hand over his scruff, passing this woman, who could've easily passed for his grandma, a quick glance. "Uh, yeah?"

A knowing smile curved her lips and she gestured with her head towards the shelf in front of them. "Need some help?"

He grimaced, scrubbing a hand over his hair now for lack of anything better to do, and nodded. "Yeah...uh, thanks."

The little old lady, whose nametag read Mae, shot him one more knowing, almost placating grin before stepping forward to gesture towards the shelf of unmentionables.

"Your girl...is she on the small side or...?"

With the question hanging in the air, Jax knew he had to make a choice. Denying who he was shopping for until he was blue in the face was only going to make him look like some sort of sick, demented psychopath. After all, why else would he be in _this_ aisle if he didn't have a woman at home to shop for? So, really, this wasn't much of a choice at all.

"Uh," Jax scratched his chin in thought as his mind conjured up images of Kat in those tight black leggings. Yeah, she looked like she knew the inside of a gym. "Yeah, I'd say she is. On the small side, like you said."

That seemed to be enough to appease Mae and she reached up to grab a pink box off the shelf, thankfully, not needing him to elaborate on Kat's size. After she deposited the box in his cart, Mae made a show of surveying the contents of the cart with hands planted firmly on her hips, and then she gestured with her head towards the list in his hand with a frown.

"Let me see that there."

Like a robot, Jax passed her the list, stunned into submission by this blue-haired, wrinkly old lady.

Mae perused the list with a shake of her head, that frown deepening as she got to the bottom of the list and made a 'tsk' sound when her eyes found the matching items from the list in his cart.

"No, sweetie," she told him and gestured to the cart. "This won't do. We can do better than this. Come on."

When he didn't move, Mae just shot him a reassuring grin and waved him over to the next aisle, which was literally the one he'd just been in to pick up the soap Kat had asked for. Once he met her in the aisle with his cart, Mae immediately grabbed the generic, unscented soap he'd absentmindedly thrown into his cart because it was the cheapest one and put it back on the shelf.

"Weekend getaway, huh?" Mae was asking him now as she bent down to survey the bottles of body wash near the bottom of the shelf.

Jax nodded numbly, unable to even elicit a response. For the second time in less than 24 hours, a woman had rendered him completely speechless...and not in a good way. This had to be some kind of personal torture someone, somewhere was handing out to him. That was the only reasonable explanation for what had happened to him over the last few days. Right about now, it felt like he'd stepped outside his body, just watching it happen to him and powerless to stop it. Like the fucking Twilight Zone or something.

"Here," Mae was saying now and held a random bottle out under his nose. "What do ya think of this one?"

As soon as the fragrant body wash snuck up his nostrils, he immediately jerked his head and sneezed right into his sleeve.

"Okay," Mae chuckled. "No lavender then. How about this one?"

Against his better judgment, he begrudgingly leaned in until he inhaled a whiff of the next bottle Mae was ready to torture him with. This time, however, the sweet aroma of fresh strawberries hit his senses and God help him...his mouth watered a little. Fuck.

Mae didn't miss that reaction and nodded knowingly. "This one reminds you of your girl, huh? That's what I thought. This is the one then."

Without even asking him if that was really the one he wanted to buy, Mae set it down in his cart and then went back to looking over the list. At this point, all he could do was helplessly trail after this hunched-back, smart-ass old woman who had taken it upon herself to finish up his shopping for him. One by one, Mae set out to replace his previous selections for Kat with ones she deemed more acceptable by her standards for 'his girl'.

The whole thing just made him shake his head. He never should've offered to pick anything up for Kat in the first place. That was really where this whole convoluted mess started. All he'd had to do was just take off -hell, he could've left without even telling her where he was going because he didn't owe her shit- and headed to the store to get what _he _needed. This whole mess could've easily been avoided.

But no...he just _had _to be the nice guy. He just _had _to try to make amends for what had gone down between them just hours before.

So, really, he had no one to blame for this but himself.

When Mae replaced the last item on the list -those damned razors he still wasn't so sure he should let Kat have- she glanced up at him with such triumph gleaming from those crinkled emerald eyes and he didn't have the heart to tell her all her efforts were a waste. It wasn't like he and Kat were up here in Pine Grove on some romantic getaway or something. There would be no wining and dining, no cuddling up by the fire, no lazy mornings in bed, and definitely no cuddling just in general. But, of course, he couldn't let Mae in on that little secret for obvious reasons.

So, he just grinned when Mae nudged him gently with her elbow and whispered conspiratorially: "There're some nice flower arrangements up at the front. Maybe...you know, your lady at home would appreciate that. Something to start your weekend off right, you know?"

"Thanks, darlin'," Jax drawled, chuckling to himself at the stars in the old lady's eyes. "I really appreciate all your help. You definitely saved my butt this weekend."

"Well, all I can say is your little lady waiting on you at home is one lucky woman," Mae shot him that toothy, wisened smirk.

There wasn't much he could offer in response, so the best he could give her was a G-rated version of his signature cocky grin. Then, with a quick wave goodbye, he grabbed hold of the cart and got the hell out of there. No fucking way was he going anywhere near those flowers in the front of the store, but he did skid to a halt when he passed a meager rack of paperbacks. He grabbed the first two he could get his hands on, just glancing down at the titles once to make sure he hadn't grabbed two of the same, and tossed the last items on his list into his cart.

Jesus, he really needed to get out of here.

It wasn't until he was back on the open road, with enough food and miscellaneous supplies loaded into the club's rickety old Ford to last them at least a week or two, that Jax finally had a moment of peace and quiet. No radio. No nagging thoughts. Nobody ragging on him about his attitude or well-being since coming home from Stockton.

This was nice. Really nice. And that lull of the open road stayed with him right up until he parked the truck in front of the cabin.

With his hands curled around the steering wheel, he leaned in to try to get a look inside even though he had no idea what he was looking for. What was he expecting? That she would creep up on him with a gun? Or one of those knives she'd nonchalantly pointed out earlier this morning? No...that wasn't going to happen. She'd already proven she wasn't stupid, so why was he stalling? All he had to do was open up the truck and bring the groceries inside.

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly where his hesitation was coming from. Sure, he'd appreciated the time alone...but now, going inside meant coming face to face with Kat again and he wasn't so sure he was ready for that yet.

With a deep exhale, he pushed off the steering wheel, pushing away those disturbing thoughts at the same time. Time to get back to business.

After grabbing an armful of grocery bags, he whistled to himself just for good measure. It didn't really matter what he was trying to prove and to whom -he just needed the distraction. But he stopped short when he caught sight of Kat standing behind the island in the kitchen. While her presence in the kitchen alone wasn't enough to cause alarm, the glinting knife in her hand sure as hell was.

He froze right in the middle of the living room, his hand still in mid-air to swing his keys around his index finger, as his eyes fixated on the menacing weapon in her hands. Shit...he should've just stayed in the truck.

But before he had a chance to even dare a word, Kat seemed to snap out of whatever trance she'd been under as she stood stiffly, almost comatose-like, at the island. A moment later, she shook her head and set the knife down on the counter with a shaky hand. Her chocolate eyes bored holes into the counter in front of her for a few beats, as Jax still stood frozen in the living room, too stunned into silence to even comprehend what he was seeing. Then, her eyes darted up and slammed directly into him.

She shot him a brief, albeit hesitant, grin and all he could do was dumbly hold out the bag carrying all her girly shit. When she had it in her hands, she rifled through it briefly before jerking her head back up to him, no doubt shocked by the quality and care that had gone into the purchases.

"I, uh…" Jax trailed off, running his free hand over his buzzed head sheepishly. "I had a little help gettin' all that shit. It'll work, right?"

Kat stared back at him for only moment before nodding quickly. "Yeah," she murmured hoarsely, "it'll work. I'm just gonna, um...I think I'm gonna hop in the shower...if that's okay."

He found himself frowning back at her, unable to wrap his head around her current mood. Why wouldn't it be okay? She'd had body wash, shampoo, and some other shit on her shopping list and he'd purchased it for specifically so she _could _take a shower. None of this was making any sense to him and he fleetingly wondered what in the hell had happened while he was at the grocery store.

All he could do was nod and she didn't hesitate to maneuver around him, with a little less of a limp, he noted. He stared after her in bewilderment just long enough for his brain to catch up with the reality of the situation. In about thirty seconds, Kat was going to be in that bathroom, getting naked and getting in the shower. Yeah...it was time to get the hell out of here for awhile.

Again.

* * *

><p><em>Two Hours Earlier<em>

Watching Jax pull out down the gravel driveway didn't give Kat the sense of relief she'd expected. Up until the moment when that rusty green Ford disappeared through the thick wooded wall of protection around the cabin, she'd actually been looking forward to this time alone. _Finally_, she'd thought, _some damn room to breathe. _And God, did she need to catch her breath.

The problem lied in the sick, heavy feeling that settled at the pit of her stomach.

She hadn't been expecting that.

All her grand plans to explore the cabin and its surroundings suddenly sputtered out before she'd even really had an opportunity to see them through to fruition. Because now, all she could think about was the fact that she was painfully and frighteningly alone here in the middle of nowhere. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

It was just paranoia. That's all this was. She knew that. Definitely.

But that didn't ease the tension practically seeping from her pores as her eyes flitted anxiously to the windows and the screen door. Then, on a pure, irrational impulse, she lurched forward and slammed the front door shut. What she didn't know and couldn't see wouldn't hurt her, right?

Now, she was pacing. Fucking pacing. In spite of her slight limp and all. This was ridiculous. There was nothing to be worried about. She was just completely and utterly stranded here in the middle of the freaking sticks. She couldn't run even if she wanted to. And maybe that was really what it all came down to.

As secluded and hidden away as Samcro's cabin was, the fact still remained that any one of her brother's enemies -or supposed allies- could pull up to the cabin at any moment, shove her into their car, and no one would be the wiser. Hell, Jax would probably have more than a few beers to celebrate finally being rid of her.

Because wasn't it possible that this was _still _all just one big, convoluted set-up? That he left her here, under the guise of 'running to the grocery store', so any number of people could get to her...namely, Dimitri?

It wasn't out of the realm of possibility and that was what scared her the most.

Even if Jax, her would-be protector or possible executioner, was true to his word, that didn't mean Dimitri and his lackeys still hadn't tracked them down somehow. That they weren't just biding their time until they got the opening they needed to move in.

Her eyes flitted shut as her thoughts sunk into the deepest recess of her mind, the very place where all her most horrifying nightmares were stored. Darkness flashed before her eyes and then she was back in that dimly lit room, discarded haphazardly on that table as Dimitri, with his black, shark-like eyes, loosening his expensive, striped tie with one hand and gripping that hammer with the other.

No...shaking those black thoughts from her mind, Kat turned hard eyes back to the front door and glared daggers right into it. After everything she'd survived, in spite of all the darkness and horror that had taken over her life, this wasn't going to be the thing that finally broke her. A few hours alone in a secluded cabin wouldn't be the straw that broke the camel's back. She was stronger than that because she'd always had to be. This was no different than the last 12 years of her life.

If she could just find a way to get through this, to keep it together long enough to be reunited with Nikolas, maybe she could figure out a way to find some of that happiness that had always eluded her since the moment she'd found her mother lying in a crimson pool of her own blood. Maybe making it through this last ordeal was the first step in finding a new sort of life separate from all the death, betrayal, and destruction that came with the _bratva. _

She had no idea what a life like that looked like, but she sure as hell wanted to find out.

That notion alone, however, wasn't enough to carry the willpower and the strength necessary to just make it through however long it was going to take Jax to get back.

_This has nothing to do with him,_ she told herself, _but you have to admit you felt just a little bit better when he was here. _

But no, this had nothing to do with _him, _per say. She would've felt the same way if Bobby was here in the cabin with her, not Jax.

_Sure, whatever you have to tell yourself. _

There was no point in waging an argument with herself, especially over something so stupid, and so, she threw herself down on the comfy couch in the living room and pushed out a shaky breath. After shifting anxiously for way too long, Kat sighed heavily and squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn't helping. In fact, this was just making it worse.

The paranoia just wouldn't subside. It wouldn't go away and with every minute that ticked by, every moment she was here alone in this cabin, that paranoia just seeped into every crevice of her mind. Jesus, she'd be lucky if she wasn't completely crazy by the time Jax got back...if he ever did.

Some leaves rustled against the gravel driveway, coupled with a shrill howl from the distance and Kat shot up from the couch, ignoring the shooting pain spiking up her ankle, and hopped up on her good foot. She glanced warily at the ancient TV housed next to the fireplace and fleetingly wondered if Jax was even planning to attempt to get it working. That was all it took for the light bulb moment she so desperately needed right now and she hobbled over to the TV to get to work.

About a half hour later, Kat had managed to successfully find three working channels after fiddling with the antenna and the dusty cable cords connected to the back of the TV. It was really a miracle the thing was working. Unfortunately, she realized with a heavy heart, if she wanted to actually use the thing, it would mean more time spent out in the living room, which meant more time spent in closer proximity to Jax.

She wasn't so sure how to feel about that.

With lack of anything better to do -and nothing but fuzzy Lawrence Welk reruns coming in on the access cable channel- Kat meandered over to the island in the kitchen in need of some exercise. Using the edge of the island as a makeshift barre, she balanced on her good foot, carefully raising her worthless one out of the way, and squatted down to launch into a series of awkward, staccato plies.

At this point, she was grateful there was no mirror or reflection in sight. Just the thought of how rusty her movements must look right now would probably be enough to make her go running for the nearest bathroom -if she could get there without injuring herself anymore. Still, she had to admit that the movements, even just on her left leg, felt comforting and reassuring in a way she hadn't expected. In a way, it was almost like coming home. The familiarity of those simple, easy motions pushed everything else aside for the time being and it was almost like she was back in dance class, back in school, and back in the life that'd been ripped away from her. Almost.

But when the tell-tale crunch of tires on the gravel driveway bounced off the wooden-panelled walls, that warmth and comfort turned ice cold. Frozen at the island with her left hand gripping the counter and the other raised in her plie stance, the logical assumption wasn't the one that stood out to her. It was probably Jax. He was back from the grocery store. That was it. But still...the irrational side won out in the end as her mind flew to the worst, most terrifying possibility: Dimitri.

Even as she scrambled around the side of the island to make a mad grab for the knives next to the coffee maker, she knew this was insane. But once the steel handle was tight in her grip, a little bit of that insanity slipped away. At least she felt better and if Dimitri and his hired help were here to steal her, then at least she wouldn't go without a fight. Hell, she'd rather slit her own wrists with this knife before allowing herself to be strong-armed out of this cabin and into God knows where with Dimitri.

And even when she heard a door slam and the low whistle that could only really come from one person, she still needed that knife in her hand just to be sure. Just to make herself feel better. Even if it was just a false sense of security. It was better than nothing. It was better than being dragged off and thrown into the trunk of Dimitri's Mercedes Benz. When the door opened to reveal Jax with one arm wrapped around a paper grocery bag and the other swinging his keys around his index finger, she knew how ridiculous she looked.

But she was frozen in place. Rooted to the linoleum under her bare feet by crippling fear.

Jax stopped right in his tracks halfway to the kitchen, no doubt shocked by the sight of her standing there with a knife in her hand -especially after she'd made that smartass comment about Russians and knives. But Jax was really the least of her worries right now.

Right now, she had to get this goddamn knife out of her hand. It was insane to have picked it up in the first place and even more insane to still be holding it now. Irrational fears were quickly giving way to crippling paranoia and if she didn't nip this shit in the bud now, there was no telling what her next idiotic move would be...in front of Jax, no less.

So, with a steely exhale, Kat set the knife down on the counter, her fingers shaking even as the metal slipped from her fingers. Then, renewed strength flowed through her as she backed away from the island. Suddenly, he was extending a hand out to her, holding out a plastic grocery bag in his grasp, that numb, stunned expression still etched all over his achingly gorgeous features.

His voice was rough and thick as he explained away the contents of the bag, but as she compulsively rifled through it, there was just no explaining away what was inside it. As her fingers brushed up against each of the items, nothing about this made much sense to her. Sure, everything she'd asked for was inside this bag...but they were _nice. _Expensive, at least by grocery store standards. Thoughtful, even. And he'd even bought tampons too.

She'd fully expected Jax to come back with the bare minimum, cheapest versions of what she'd asked for and that would've been just fine. It would've been more than fine because she would've had a toothbrush and soap. She could've survived no problem with the bare minimum, but here he was, presenting his purchases to her now with an almost sheepish, boyish expression on his face now that she'd put the knife down.

It wasn't so much the items themselves that confounded her. It was the care and kindness that had gone into the purchases that twisted both her head and her stomach into knots. Although he'd hastily jumped to explain he "had some help" in the grocery store, that didn't change the fact that he could've easily refused said help, especially if he hadn't asked for it. That somewhere, somehow, he'd mustered up enough consideration for her to care about her comfort here in this cabin. And that in itself just completely shattered the brutish, aggressive, devil-may-care biker asshole perception of him she'd convinced herself was true.

And suddenly, she had to get out of this kitchen.

"I think I'm just gonna hop in the shower...if that's okay," she murmured, clutching the grocery bag in her hands and doing everything in her power to keep her eyes away from his.

Barely hearing Jax's hoarse response, she spun around, ignoring the dull ache in her ankle, and stalked towards the hallway. When she closed the bathroom door behind her, that loose grip she'd had over her control finally shattered, splintering little pieces of her sanity along the way. With shaking hands, she stripped herself free of Jax's clothes, needing as much space between them as possible and got to the mindless task of setting up her shower, which wasn't exactly the easiest of tasks given who'd made this impending shower possible for her.

But it wasn't until the glass door shut behind her and the warm blasts hit her face that the inevitable breakdown finally happened. With these few precious moments of complete privacy and knowing Jax wouldn't be able to hear her, the walls she'd carefully constructed over these last weeks -hell, these last years- finally came crumbling down. It was as if stepping into that steaming shower was the final push her body needed to let go.

Her shoulders shook heavily from the weight of her fucked up life swirled around like a ship trapped in a storm. Wave after wave crashed against her as each memory flashed before her eyes, sinking her even deeper into this hurricane of nightmares past. Each flash elicited another shocked sob, another round of fresh tears, and there was no stopping it now as her legs gave out underneath her, sending her to the tile floor of the shower.

The water raged on, washing everything away but making it anew at the same time. Her father's cold, hateful black eyes materialized in one flash, morphing into the lifeless, grey ones of her mother's in the next. Kat covered her face with her hands, muffling yet another desperate, anguished gasp of a sob, all her restraint literally and metaphorically now down the drain.

There was no stopping it now.

And now, she gladly gave in as her body purged all the horror, all the nightmares, and all the pain she'd kept bottled up inside. It might've felt good if it just still didn't hurt so damn much.

Every horror in her life came pouring out. Every blood-soaked memory. Every tear-stained nightmare. The hammer. Those awful, white-washed walls inside the clinic. The agonizing crunch of her ankle shattering. Her mother's pale, blank, blood-drained face. The letters. Uncle Sergei...if that's what he _really _was. The nurse's sympathetic arm around her shoulders. The enraged, shock expression on her brother's face as his eyes pored over the letters. The moment she'd finally accepted that no amount of surgery or physical therapy would ever resurrect her dance career...God, she missed it. The life she could've had, the freedom that would've been hers...it was all gone now. All of it.

And now, as the final sobs racked her body, shaking her from the inside out, all she was left with was the knowledge that everything in her life had brought her here to this place. This sanctuary buried deep in the woods. Alone with a man she couldn't stand. A man she hated herself for wanting. A man she hated herself for trusting.

More than anything, just knowing he was here, that she wasn't alone in these woods anymore, that she didn't need those knives in the kitchen as long as he was around was probably the thing she hated the most.

Dimitri Nobikov and Viktor Putlova had done that to her. They'd taken away every shred of dignity, every ounce of humanity, and replaced it with blood and fear. They'd reduced her to a shriveling, convulsing, sobbing mess on the floor of a shower. They'd destroyed everything in her life there was to destroy and then some.

As she lifted her head from her hands and glared at the wall, a newfound resolve flowed through her veins. _No more_, she told herself. They couldn't touch her anymore. Even if Dimitri found her by some horrible twist of fate, he would never touch her again. He would never take from her again. She'd rather die than allow him to take from her again.

This shiny new determination pushed her up onto her feet, as if there was no ankle injury at all, and as she found her bearings, that new strength swept from her toes all the way up to her neck, lifting her chin and finally reaching for the moisturizing shampoo Jax had purchased for her.

_One step at a time, _she told herself as she squeezed a liberal amount of the coconut-scented gel into her hands. _First, a shower. Then I can figure out what comes next. _

For the first time since stepping foot inside Samcro's cabin, she finally felt the twinge of gratitude that had eluded her before. Staying here for however long this lasted was far better than the alternative.

She could be trapped in the sadistic arms of her so-called fiance, but instead, she was here, stranded in a secluded cabin with no shoes, only a few changes of clothes, and a rough-around-the-edges biker who might not be the asshole she thought he was. Things could be worse.

And for the first time in almost 12 years, it finally felt like things could actually get better.

Finally.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-Thoughts/comments/predictions? Look for another update next week!**


	8. The Mother of All Vices

**A/N-Sorry for the late update. I got a little distracted with Thanksgiving and everything...and again yesterday. Sorry for the wait!**

* * *

><p><strong>SANCTUARY<strong>

Chapter Seven

"Idleness is the mother of all vices."

-Russian Proverb

_Saturday, November 3, 2010_

As Jax's fist slammed into the punching bag, forcing it backwards into the garage with a vicious swing, he still couldn't shake the feeling that this shit wasn't really helping. Two hours out here hadn't really helped either. He slammed his fist into the bag one last time, caught it between his arms, and leaned up against it on an elbow. Wiping the sweat from his brow with his arm, he had to shake his head at the irony of his current predicament.

Nearly a month ago, he'd found himself slipping underneath makeshift robes of a makeshift ring just to feel something. Anything other than numb. Just the crunch of his knuckles, the tearing of his skin, or the feel of his blood running down his hands was enough.

Now, he found himself in this garage, pummeling this punching bag just to distract himself _from _feeling.

The problem was that any time out in the garage was the only time over the last three days that he'd actually been able to think straight without his mind wandering to a certain, lithe-limbed, mahogany-haired girl with chocolate eyes.

This wasn't just a problem. This had the potential to be a motherfucking disaster.

All the more reason to keep distracting himself, but it didn't help that the cabin had seemed to grow infinitely smaller with each day that passed. It didn't matter that their rooms were literally on opposites ends of the cabin. It didn't matter that he'd made every effort to put some space between them. He'd made a conscious point to be anywhere that she wasn't, whether it was outside by the firepit, in his room, or only venturing out to the main living area when he knew she'd already retreated back to her room.

They'd barely interacted since he'd found her standing in the kitchen with a knife in her hand and he wanted to keep it that way.

By all accounts, keeping his distance just made his life a whole less complicated. If they weren't in the same room, if they didn't engage in any sort of conversation, the less his fascination with her would flourish. Not that he was particularly happy about even _admitting _any sort of fascination existed in the first place. Exacerbating it was the absolute last thing he needed right now.

All he really needed to do was just find a way to stay preoccupied with something other than the distraction inside the club's cabin and bide his time until he got the call from either Clay or Putlova himself that his time here was over.

_Just went from one fucking prison to another, _he mused ruefully as he reached for a bottle of water and shook his head. Of course, that comparison wasn't entirely fair. Things could be a whole lot shittier because not only had he slept in an eight-foot cell there, but he'd almost fucking died in Stockton too. Right about now, though, his current predicament felt like an entrapment of a whole new level.

If he thought about it for too long, if he let his mind wander back to that moment three nights ago, when he'd back her up against the island, when he'd had his hands on her smooth, soft skin...sooner or later, that sweet torture would conquer him completely.

Because at the end of the day, that's exactly what this was. Torture. Sweet, self-destructive, addictive torture.

He had a problem and no amount of distraction in the world could cure him of it. Having successfully pushed his body to the brink of exhaustion, all he could do now was head back inside the cabin to get some food, a shower, and pray Kat wasn't anywhere in sight.

Fat chance of that happening because there was no way he'd be that lucky today. Or probably any day for as long as he had to stay in this cabin with her.

So, really, he wasn't all that surprised to find her in the middle of the kitchen when he ventured back inside. What he wasn't expecting, however, was to see her gripping the edge of the island with one hand, holding the other high above her head, and squatting down deep into the floor on her left leg, balancing her right foot carefully up on her toes.

Huh. This was new.

And God help him, but seeing her bent down like that only made him wish he could see what that looked like from behind...and then maybe kick himself in the balls just for thinking it. That was an image he wouldn't be able to scrub from his mind if his life depended on it. What was in front of him now was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen and this wasn't just his blue balls talking.

All he could do now was deflect and hope the distraction was enough. Maybe if he pushed her hard enough, she'd storm off into her room or something and then he wouldn't have to see her again for the rest of the night. Yeah, that seemed like a pretty good plan.

"Well, well, well," he called out to Kat, startling her right out of her revelry. "That's some workout you got there. Looks like it's hittin' ya in all the right places."

Unfortunately for him, all he got was an eye roll. That wouldn't be quite enough to get her out of his hair for the next eight hours or so. _Gotta keep pushing, _he told himself, _it's just too bad it's so much fun._

But when her chocolate eyes swept over his sweat-covered bare chest, taking on a new, hungrier glaze with every second that ticked by, a traitorous swell of cocky confidence rushed through him. No matter what else stood in between them, that look would never get old. That aroused excitement darkening those eyes into pure chocolate silk. Yeah, that shit would never get old, even if he hated himself just a little for enjoying her reaction to him so much. This he could live with. This he could have a little fun with.

"How 'bout you make us some sandwiches, hmm? Ya know, replenish our bodies after our equally difficult and strenuous workouts?"

Kat's eyebrows lifted and her lips quirked up into a slight smile. "Strenuous, huh? That's a pretty big word for you."

"What can I say? I guess I'm just full of surprises," Jax shrugged, letting her little dig roll right off his shoulders as he stepped deeper into the kitchen.

Her light, melodic laugh trailed after her as she rounded the side of the island to open up the refrigerator. At this point, he'd fully expected her to balk at his suggestion of making him a sandwich, no doubt giving into the feminist ideals he was sure were there...but so far, she was just calmly standing in the kitchen with one arm holding the refrigerator door open, eyeing him with a quirked eyebrow like his suggestion was nothing but amusing.

Huh.

"So, what kind of sandwich would you like then? Did you buy any lunch meat? Or maybe peanut butter and jelly?"

She was still staring back at him expectantly, making it that much more difficult to wrap his head around the fact that she wasn't throwing some smartass comment back at him.

"Peanut butter and jelly's good," he just shrugged and leaned up against the island on both elbows, watching her swift movements as she assembled the necessities for their sandwiches with growing fascination. Fuck.

He dipped a little lower on his elbows, desperate for another distraction. "So what was that shit you were doin' before? Some kinda weird squat?"

Kat glanced up at him from across the island with an unfathomable expression on her face. For a split second, sadness flashed across her eyes and then just that, it was gone.

"Well," he pressed on, inexplicably needing to keep that sadness from flicking across her features again. "Whatever it was, it was fuckin' hot."

She shocked him once again by chuckling at that comment, which was _supposed_ to have the opposite effect. "It's called a plie."

"A what?"

"Plie," she told him again as she spread some peanut butter on a slice of bread. "It's French. Means bent."

"So what is that, like, yoga or some shit? Pilates?"

A wistful, almost mournful smile crept up her lips and he felt his heart twist at the sight.

"No," Kat answered, lowering her eyes down to the sandwich she was working on. "Ballet."

His eyebrows flew up into his forehead and he couldn't stop himself from leaning across the island even deeper to somehow get closer to her. "Ballet? You dance?"

The moment those words fell from his lips, his mistake slammed right through him at the defeat that flickered across her beautiful face. Of course she didn't dance. At least not anymore.

"I used to," was the quiet response he got and he wanted to kick himself at his own stupidity. Then she was chuckling half-heartedly and gesturing down to her feet. "It's kinda hard with a bum foot, you know?"

Although this was an obvious attempt to bring some lightness back to the conversation, Jax didn't miss the wounded look that flashed across her face for a just a moment. _Forget about it, _he told himself, _nothing you can do for her anyways. Just keep pushing. _

Something told him this wasn't going to be quite as much fun anymore. Oh well.

"Well," he tilted his head to the side as he spoke, hoping to steer the mood in a different direction. "I wasn't aware you spoke French."

"Years of ballet class, I guess," she just shrugged. "I wouldn't say I'm exactly fluent or anything."

Never one to let an opportunity like that pass him by, Jax leaned forward into his elbows and shot her a wicked smirk. "I'm sure there's a lot of things you're fluent in, princess. How 'bout we find out?"

Just one flash of irritation flared across her face, but that still wasn't enough. He just had to push her a little harder.

"I think you'd like that too much," Kat shot back, her jaw tightening just enough to let him know he was slowly but surely getting under her skin. "Hey, were _you _aware which books you bought for me yesterday?"

He shook his head dumbly, not liking where this was going. Maybe he should've taken a closer look at those titles.

Kat's lips curved up into a sly smirk and his heart just about dropped into his stomach. "You bought me the first _50 Shades of Grey_ book _and _the first _Bared to You_ book."

Where those names supposed to mean something to him? Judging by the way her smirk had morphed into a full-blown grin, he'd most likely made a huge mistake.

"You know?" she cocked a suggestive eyebrow at him just for good measure. "Erotica?"

His eyes just about fell out of their sockets. Shit. So _that _was why the cashier at the grocery store had given him such a weird look. Why the fuck didn't he at least glance at the back of the covers? Just the thought of her reading a book like that, less than twenty feet away from him...oh shit. What the hell did he just do to himself?

Torture. That's what this was. Self-destructive, painful torture.

"I haven't read them yet," Kat pressed on and that gleam in her dark eyes was one he wasn't so sure he liked. "I wasn't exactly planning on jumping on the bandwagon, but I have to say I'm a little..._intrigued_, especially now that I've got the time to really dig in, right?"

Jax swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. She was good. Real good. Time to change the conversation to something other than her reading pages and pages of graphic sex just a room away from him.

"So, huh, anyways, we never finished talkin' about your French, darlin'" he nodded to her. This had to be the lamest attempt in the history of lame attempts to change the subject, but that was beside the point. "So, huh...whaddya think? Your French as good as your Russian?"

Kat just laughed and shook her head at his not-so-subtle shift in conversation. Damn, she was sure taking her time with his sandwich. "I think it's probably about the same."

"Really?" his eyebrows bobbed up at her admission, grateful for this new angle to play and even more grateful that the subject was officially changed. "I gotta say, princess, I find that a little hard to believe...considering."

She cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge. "Considering what?"

"You know. Your Russian heritage."

Kat barked out a laugh and shook a peanut butter covered knife at him in admonishment. "My Russian heritage? That's a good one. Just because my ancestry is Russian, I'm automatically supposed to know the language?"

"Oh, come on," he tossed back good-naturedly, liking this give and take a lot better than the serious turn their conversation had taken a few minutes prior. "You can't tell me you don't know at least a little bit. You grew up around that shit, right? Come on, say somethin' to me in Russian. You know you wanna."

She just rolled her eyes and sent him a withering look. "You're what? German?"

"Irish," he corrected, a playful smirk teasing his lips.

"Okay, so your 'native' language is what, then, Gaelic?"

"That sounds about right."

Kat leaned forward on her elbows, mimicking his current stance, and purred: "So, come on then, say somethin' to me in Gaelic. You know you wanna."

He could practically feel the heat simmering between them and knew he had to woefully ignore the tent growing in his shorts. If he could just piss her off enough already...Jesus, then he could get his ass in the shower to finally take care of this shit and picture those long, slender legs wrapped around his waist and those plush, cherry lips wrapped around his -

Shit. This needed to stop and it needed to stop fucking now.

Turning the tables on her, he matched her husky tone -but reneged on the breathiness- and shot back: "I'd rather hear some Russian, princess. Come on...talk dirty to me."

Waiting just a beat, Kat's lips curved into that saucy grin he both loved and loathed. He was really fucking in for it now.

"_Sudya po palatke vy rastushchey v shtany_," she started and his dick just about jumped up and down at the exotic way the language rolled off her tongue. "_Ya dumayu, chto eto vyglyadit kak vy rady menya videt' . Zhal' mne nuzhno pintsetom i uvelichitel'noye steklo, chtoby ubedit'sya, chto."_

"I knew you could do it," Jax announced triumphantly. "That was real nice, princess. Beautiful. And fuckin' hot. What's it mean?"

"Oh, I don't think you wanna know."

"Uh, yeah. I do. I really do."

"Fine," Kat shrugged. "You asked for it. Basically, I said that judging by the tent you're growing in your pants," she paused to make a show of tilting her head down and to the side in a playful attempt to see said tent, "I think you're happy to see me. It's just too bad I need a tweezers and a magnifying glass to make sure."

For a moment, shock and awe clouded his brain from doing just about anything else. That was all the reaction he could muster as her words bounced to and from his brain. Then, when the stupefied expression slipped off his face, his shoulders began to shake with heaving laughter. Wiping his eyes with one hand and holding his stomach with the other, he dared a glance at Kat with one eye only to find her observing him across the island with an amused smirk curving those luscious lips.

"That's priceless, darlin'," Jax laughed, wiping his eyes one more time just for good measure. "Come on, say somethin' else. Please. Pretty please."

"Nope," she shook her head promptly. "I've pretty much exhausted all my Russian for the day."

And now, he had yet another problem on his hands. Because now, when he finally did make it to the shower, he'd be thinking about her speaking to him in Russian. Maybe reading one of those dirty books to him in Russian too. It really didn't matter what she said or what it meant; those words flowing from those lips...it was going to take a lot of exorcising his demons in the shower to wipe that sound from his mind.

So, really, in an effort to piss her off and put some more space between them, all he'd managed to do was fuck himself even harder. Yeah, this had totally blown up in his face.

Thankfully, Kat was holding out the finished peanut butter and jelly sandwich out to him, but as he reached across the island for it, she promptly swept it right out of his grasp and took a corner out of it with her mouth.

"Hey!" he cried out and made a show of lunging across the island as she playfully held the sandwich just out of his reach. "Aw, come on. That's such a tease, darlin'."

"Oh well," Kat shrugged and took another bite of the sandwich just to rub it in a little more.

"Make me another one?"

She shot him a pointed look. "Say please."

Obliging her with a toothy grin, he bowed his head slightly. "Please, princess."

That frustrated irritation flashed across her face again, reminding him of his original goal here. Must piss off the FMP.

Surprisingly enough, she pressed a saccharine smile across her lips and he had to fight the urge to readjust his shorts yet again. "Don't call me that. Please."

_Ah, _he mused delightfully. _Another opportunity. Thanks FMP._

"Sure," Jax shrugged. "Whatever you say. _Princess_."

And...there it was. Those eyes flashed chocolate-covered fireballs at him and he knew he'd finally hit right on target. It was about fucking time. So he watched, mystified and enthralled with delight, as she snatched two more pieces of bread and got down to the business of making another sandwich. Glaring up at him with a devilish grin, she dipped her index finger into the peanut butter, lopped a healthy portion onto the bread, and promptly spread it from end to end with her finger. After repeating that same little special touch with the jelly, she thrust the sandwich out to him like she expected him to be completely appalled by the way she'd prepared it.

If only she knew he'd gladly eat just about anything she scooped off her finger. Hell, he'd give anything to lick that peanut butter off her finger himself...but all ability to form a coherent thought left as he reached for the sandwich, his hand freezing in mid-air as she mindlessly stuck her finger in her mouth to suck the leftover peanut butter from it.

Good fucking God.

There was no way he'd ever be able to get that image out of his head.

His mouth went dry. His brain shut off completely. All he had the capacity to focus on was her finger inside those plump, ruby-red lips and he just about lost it altogether. Jesus Christ. He was so fucked. So completely and helplessly fucked.

"Hey," Kat was saying now, thankfully yanking him out of the mindfuck she'd sent him spiralling down just moments before. "I have a question."

Coughing lightly to mask how he had to readjust his shorts just to summon enough vocal power to respond to her, he finally glanced her way to find her watching him expectantly, clearly oblivious to the way her little stunt affected him.

"Oh yeah?" he muttered hoarsely. "What's that?"

"What does FMP mean?"

The mouthful of sandwich sloshing around in his mouth almost came coughing right back up. Oh shit. How the hell did she -

"I heard you say that when you were on the phone the other day," Kat informed him pointedly. "And I'm sure you were talking about me. So, what does it mean?"

It finally dawned on him that this was probably the opportunity he'd been fumbling for this whole time. All he had to do now was simply tell her. That was sure to piss her off like hell and send her right into her room for at least the rest of the night. Maybe she'd even be pissed enough to last through tomorrow too. Hell, maybe she'd even slap him. That might actually be kinda fun.

Just to drag the tension out a little bit longer, he leaned forward on his elbows and winked at her.

"You sure you wanna know?"

"Uh yeah, otherwise I wouldn't have asked."

"Already, fine," he taunted, throwing her previous game right back in her face. "You asked for it. Fucking mafia princess. That's what it means."

There was a long pause as he waited for the inevitable eruption. It had to happen. He was sure of it. What other reaction could she possibly to have? The nickname was intended to be demeaning and it had also been intended to stay between himself and his fellow club members, but if this kept them out of each other's crosshairs, then he didn't fucking care anymore.

But when her reaction finally made an appearance, it wasn't the death-glare he'd been expecting. There was no fire. No sparks of chocolate-covered rage. No red-faced explosion of curses flung his way. No...she laughed. She threw her head back and fucking _laughed_. So hard, in fact, that this crazy girl had to wipe the tears from her eyes, still doubled over with gasps of laughter.

"Oh shit," Kat sputtered in between snickers. "Oh God, that's hilarious. I know I should probably be pissed as shit...but oh man, that's just too fuckin' funny. How long did it take you to come up with that?"

His jaw tightened and right about now, he wasn't so sure what irritated him the most: the fact that his plan had had the reverse effect and pissed _him _off or her little dig at his intelligence. Both were equally unforgivable and his fists clamped around the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white. Oh no, she wasn't making fun of him right now. With the tables unceremoniously turned against him, his only remaining defense mechanism left was to lash out. That was what he did best anyways. Besides, she fucking had it coming now.

"You wanna know what I think?" he pushed out, letting his lips curl over his teeth into an ever-so-slight snarl. He didn't give her a chance to reply. "I think the reason you don't dance anymore isn't because of your bum foot."

Treading this type of deep water was probably a bad idea and most likely a move he would regret later. But the urge to wound her back, to push her over the edge, to make her feel as small as she'd just made him feel, to turn the tables around on her was just too strong. It made him a bastard. But it also made him a bastard who'd be able to get some fucking sleep tonight.

Her expression changed on a dime and finally, _finally,_ all his misguided efforts were getting some results. Kat's chocolate eyes simmered to the color of burnt coffee, black and hot with animosity. She was on the hook now. All he had to do was reel her in and finish the job. Push her far enough off the edge to slap him, storm off, and slam her door behind her. Hate him even if it had to come to that. If making her hate him kept her at arms length, then he'd just have to keep fucking pushing.

"What the hell would you know about it?" her stormy eyes glared at him from across the island and he knew he deserved it.

It was a fair question, especially considering that he didn't, in fact, know the first thing about it. Knowing the details would just tie one more invisible thread between them and he couldn't have that.

No fucking way.

"Doesn't matter," Jax batted a hand at her and took another healthy bite out of his sandwich. "You dropped out. You quit. _That's _why you don't dance anymore."

A low blow, but a necessary low blow. It couldn't be that far from the truth either, given the little information he knew about her. Even that, he knew, was probably all bullshit and probably nothing but a tool to dig himself in even deeper. That was shit he could live with.

Her jaw clenched and her eyes hurled daggers at him from across the island, so he knew his suggestion hit his intended target.

"You don't know jackshit about why I dropped out and why I quit. Don't pretend like you know anything about me just because we have to live here together," Kat bit out and he could practically see the restraint and the effort it was taking for her to keep herself from lunging across the island to wrap her hands around his neck.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "I bet you don't even know how to do it anymore. I don't know why you even bother with that pliad shit or whatever it was you were doin' before."

Pure fire sparked in her eyes and once again, his efforts had the reverse effort. Why the fuck was it so hot to see her so pissed? To know he was the one who'd made her feel that way? There was seriously something wrong with him, but then again, he'd never claimed to be a good guy either.

Now, she was stalking around the island, determination and bitterness written across her face and for a split second, regret coupled with remorse flickered through him. Suddenly, this wasn't much fun anymore. Suddenly, he wished he hadn't been the one to evoke this hostility in her. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he didn't really want her to hate him. It would sure as shit make his life easier...but he still didn't like the idea of her hating him.

Kat extended a hand to him and gestured to him with her head. "Hold out your hand."

"What?"

"Your hand," she pressed on exasperatedly and pointed to his right hand. "Now."

He blinked. And then blinked again. "Why?"

"_Pas de deux_ time, asshole. Gimme your hand. Now."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, still holding her left hand out to him. "Fine. No _pas de deux_ then. You can be my barre if that's what you really want."

His eyes lit up and slowly extended his right hand as he spoke. "You mean like your pole?"

When her lips curved up into the faintest of smiles, he knew he hadn't fucked up completely. That wasn't what he really wanted, not deep down at least.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just compare a ballet barre to a stripper pole, okay?" she didn't wait for him to respond and promptly closed her hand around his forearm with a tight, experienced grip. "Hold still. Don't move. And eat shit, okay, Jax?"

"Whatever you say, princess," Jax retorted, letting a smirk take over his lips.

That last little dig didn't deter her and all he could do was keep his eyes glued to her feet as her scarred foot lifted ever so slightly from the kitchen floor. A moment later, with every muscle and tendon in her left leg working in ways Jax hadn't been aware was possible, her left, unmarred foot rose upwards until she was balancing nearly all her weight, save for the little she'd distributed onto him, right up onto her tiptoes. She held the position, with toes rooted firmly onto the floor and her ankle high in the air, for a few long counts, and never broke eye contact with him. Victory radiated from her chocolate, smooth as silk eyes and right about now, he wouldn't have had it any other way.

As she slowly lowered herself back onto solid ground, it wasn't lost on him that their physical contact remained. With her soft fingertips lingering on his forearm, instinct told him to pull her in closer to him. Too bad that was a really shitty idea, if not one that would only cause him more problems. The rest of her smooth skin would be right up against his bare chest; her curtain of mahogany hair would be so close to his hands; her lips would be just a hairs-breadth away from the rest of his face. Too close. She would just be too close. Hell, she was already too close.

"There," she whispered, her eyes still locked on his. "I showed you."

"Yeah," Jax murmured back hoarsely. "Yeah, you did."

With their hands still grasping each other's forearm, he realized this was the first time he touched her just because. It wasn't to make her uncomfortable or ruffle her feathers or just piss her off in general. He was touching her now because he wanted to. Because her skin was still as soft as he remembered. Because her eyes were still pure dark silk. Because she was still touching him and the feel of her fingertips resting against his forearm was more erotic than any book could ever describe. This was the real thing. And the real thing scared the shit out of him.

And when her hand slipped out of his grasp, the overwhelming sense of emptiness, the way he mourned the loss of her touch, it was clear he had an even bigger problem on his hands than he'd thought.

Shit.

"I'm, um, gonna go take a shower now," Kat was telling him now and ran a hand through her long hair and he had a sudden, irrational rush of jealousy. He wanted to be that hand right now. This was crazy. Absolutely insane.

For lack of a better response, he nodded, watching her backpedal away from him and finally turn her back to him completely to head towards the hallway. Jax scrubbed both hands over his face, leaning back against the island, and blew out a deep breath. This shit had gotten out of hand real quick. He'd come to this cabin under the impression that these next however many days or weeks, or God forbid, months were going to be spent with an annoying, spoiled, little daddy's girl that he'd probably want to smother with a pillow before everything was all said and done.

He'd dreaded it. He'd resented her and the situation her brother had put his club in. He'd hated her the moment she'd stepped out of that Mercedes Benz in her high heels, leather jacket, and tight black leggings just on principle alone.

It was fair to say the tables had officially turned on him now.

Before he even knew what was happening, his feet carried him all the way from the kitchen to the hallway until he halted right in front of the bathroom door. There was no good reason for him to be standing here right now and frankly, nothing good could come from it either. Now, he was officially a creeper. A stalker standing outside a door, listening to the object of his obsession take a shower. This was a whole new low for him and here he'd thought black-out drunken sex with a nameless croweater was bad.

Still, in spite of everything he knew was wrong with what he was doing, he leaned forward until his ear rested against the door. But what he heard, in between the sound of running water, was not the sexy, sensual sounds he'd wanted to hear. Instead, he stood frozen by the door, listening to the sounds of muffled, gasping sobs.

A new, foreign feeling slid down his spine at the sound. He felt sick. Like his heart had just plummeted right into the pit of his stomach. Guilt was there too, swimming around in his stomach, eating away at his conscience because he knew this was his fault. He'd pushed her too far. Said too much. Hurt her too much. He'd never meant to cause that much damage...to make her relive whatever pain and whatever memories her little show before had dredged up through the mud.

Now _this _was a new low.

Since when was this kind of emotional warfare something he got off on? Something he even attempted in the first place? He'd officially earned the title of biggest asshole of the century. Maybe he should add bastard to the list too. And douchebag. And -

The door opened abruptly to reveal Kat standing at the threshold, dressed in another of his Samcro T-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants, soaked hair, and holding her wet towel protectively against her chest. If he hadn't figured out she was crying before, her red-rimmed eyes gave her away. She opened her mouth to speak and then promptly shut it just as fast.

And because he was an idiot, he couldn't stop himself from stammering: "Were you...were you cryin' in there?"

Her bloodshot eyes glared up at him. "No."

Okay, so maybe he deserved that.

"I...I'm sorry if I -look, I didn't mean to -"

"Shut up, Jax," Kat cut in viciously, shoving past him as she spoke. "Not everything is about you. Asshole."

With that, she stalked back into her bedroom and slammed the door. So, as he stood motionless and stunned by the bathroom door, it seemed like he'd finally pissed her off. She was locked up in her bedroom and would probably stay there for the rest of the night, just like he'd wanted from the beginning. He'd successfully hurt her enough to put the space between them he'd needed.

He'd won.

Shit.


	9. Hard Words

**A/N-I'm posting a day earlier because I was so late with the last update and because you know...the finale. Sigh. Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>SANCTUARY<strong>

Chapter Eight

"_Hard words break no bones_."

-Russian Proverb

_Sunday, November 4, 2010_

"Oh, come on...seriously?" Kat muttered, shaking her head from her comfy place on the couch.

Even though she really didn't want to, she just couldn't stop herself from the turning the next page. Every new page brought the story to a new level of ridiculousness, but here she was, compulsively turning the pages to find out what would happen next. At this point, she was ready to just skim past all the sex scenes -which, honestly, really weren't as shockingly graphic as she'd been expecting- just to find out how it all ended.

Oh shit, there were three of these nonsensical books. Why did she start reading it? Why did she do this to herself? Oh right, she was bored out of her mind and with no internet, hardly any TV, and no other options, she was sitting here on the couch reading _50 Shades of Grey _and loving/hating every second of it.

Her eyes skimmed over the next lines and subsequently, they rolled right up to the ceiling…with a sigh, she stuck a bookmark in the page and let the paperback slip through her fingers and onto the floor.

"No good, huh?" a husky, smooth voice called out behind her.

Kat turned her head to find Jax staring down at her from the back of the couch with that cocky, shit-eating grin spread across his handsome face and she shifted uncomfortably against the cushions. His vantage point right now wasn't exactly ideal, at least not for her, and that smartass, panty-dropping smirk wasn't helping.

"Terrible," she tossed back, turning her head back towards the fireplace in a lame attempt at brushing him off. "If I have to read about Ana's inner goddess one more time, I think I might stab myself in the eye."

He chuckled heartily and rubbed a hand over his mouth, cocking a suggestive eyebrow at her. "That bad, huh? What about...you know?"

"The sex scenes?"

"Yeah," Jax leaned up against the back of the couch on his knuckles, invading just a little bit more of her bubble of personal space. "Not up to your standards, I guess, huh?"

"I don't think my standards are the problem," she laughed and pushed herself off the couch to put some more space between them.

Ever since their passive-aggressive confrontation a day ago, Jax had been practically walking on eggshells around her, tip-toeing around the fact that he'd basically heard her sob fest in the shower, and had, for the most part, respected her space with a wide, nonconfrontational gerth. The fact that he obviously believed he was the reason behind her most recent crying fit just made the whole thing that much more awkward. And just made her feel guilty.

All that added up to a very weird situation. It was like he'd been actively _trying _to not only keep his distance, but to actually be _nice _too. There was no animosity there. No subtle digs. No attempts to ruffle her feathers or get under her skin. He was being genuine. Friendly even. It was weird. Really, really weird. And it was even stranger when he'd randomly knocked on her bedroom door this morning to inform her he was taking another trip into town...and asked her if she needed anything.

She'd stood in her doorway, flabbergasted and fumbling for some sort of response because the logic just didn't add up. First of all, he'd literally just been to the store not even two days before. They didn't need anything and could easily make the groceries they had left stretch at least a few more days. Was she that difficult to be around that he had to make up excuses to leave? But then again, the well-meaning, almost _friendly_ tone he'd used didn't make much sense either.

Now, Jax was hovering over the edge of the couch with that boyish grin curving up his lips, like he was almost nervous to be leaning over her. Then, he lifted up a grocery bag and held it right over her head.

"You can tell me all about that book later, princess," he smirked. "I gotcha somethin' from the store."

For a split second, Kat was too stunned to know how to respond, frozen into the couch cushions, immobilized by shock. Did she miss the part where she'd actually asked him for something from the store? Was she too wrapped up in a _50 Shades_ trainwreck that she'd missed a conversation she was almost positive hadn't actually happened? When he dangled the bag over her head, there was nothing left to do but reach out and grab it.

As her hands and eyes groped the inside of the bag, her brows knit tight together and her gaze snapped up at Jax, who still had that sheepish, almost hesitant expression written across his face. Slowly, her fingertips fumbled around the plastic until she finally slipped the flip-flops from the bag.

"I, uh, wasn't sure what size you needed, so I just took my best guess," Jax was saying now, rubbing some anxious fingers through his buzzed hair. "I don't know...I figured you're probably sick as shit of walkin' around this place barefoot so…"

He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she gaped back at him, dumbstruck and dumbfounded by this turn of events.

"So," Kat started unsteadily, biting down on her bottom lip as she racked her brain to try to figure out the best way to address this without risk of offending him. "I guess...this means I'll be able to go outside now and not have to worry about shattering my ankle again, huh?"

As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she wanted to just make a mad dash for them to pull them back and forget that little piece of information about her injury hadn't been shared. So far, he hadn't asked her any intruding questions about her ankle, even though he'd obviously noticed the scars by now, and she didn't particularly feel like taking a trip down memory lane anytime soon.

But if her slip of the tongue was actually noticed by Jax, he didn't show it, instead choosing to let that smirk slid into a wide grin of victory. And in spite of the fact that her head screamed that it was nothing, that this didn't mean anything, that she shouldn't care, her heart couldn't stop itself from flip-flopping around her stomach as her toes curled deep into the couch cushions.

_Panty-dropping grin indeed. _

And now, what she needed more than anything was to wipe that smile right off his face. Nothing good could come of him looking at her that way, like she was a tasty dessert served up on a platter for him to devour, and it needed to stop. Like yesterday.

So, despite her better judgment, she tossed the bag onto the floor noncommittally and steeled herself in preparation for Jax's wrath. Waiting just long enough to see his face freeze, she shrugged and reached for her long-forgotten paperback.

"You don't have to be nice to me, you know," Kat told him pointedly, casting him a quick, expressionless glance over her shoulder as she settled back into the couch. "I wasn't crying because of you."

Jax's jaw tightened and from her low vantage point, she could see him clenching and unclenching his fists into the sides of his jeans, a telling sign that she'd hit her mark. The flash of disappointment on his face stung for only a moment because vulnerability just wasn't something she could afford right now. The less they talked to each other and the more distance between them the better. Pushing him, frustrating him, pissing him off -it was just easier than the alternative.

"Fine," Jax growled and before she could react, he lunged over the edge of the couch, snatched the bag off the floor, and stalked towards the hallway. "Nice to see you too, princess," he called roughly over his shoulder with just enough sarcasm flitting his voice to tell her just how pissed he was.

Two seconds later, the sound of a door slamming echoed through the otherwise silent cabin.

She hadn't been expecting that. An argument, maybe. That was more along the lines of what should've happened. They could've hashed it out, yelled at each other for a little while, gotten everything out of their system, and then they could've retreated back to the solace and comfort of their own bedrooms. That was what she'd expected.

Not him storming off that way. Not him shooting her that disappointed, wounded expression.

Shit.

In a vain, laughably desperate attempt to shake him loose from her twisted emotions, all she'd managed to do was insult him. And all he'd tried to do was give her a peace offering. A thoughtful, considerate peace offering too.

_Nice, Kat. Real fuckin' nice._

Well, seriously, how else was he going to react? In light of her most recent attempt to insult and infuriate him, she should've known exactly what was going to happen and anticipated the ensuing fuming. Now, she really had no one to blame for this latest eruption but herself.

And there was a part of her, a very deep, borderline shameful part, that absolutely hated herself right now.

_It was necessary, _she had to tell herself, _it's just easier this way. Dealing with actually _liking _him would be so much harder. _

She just wished it didn't have to suck so much.

When Kat heard the front screen door slam behind Jax and the crunch of gravel under his feet, a defeated sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it. To add insult to injury, her feet were carrying her right towards the front door in Jax's wake, halting only to watch his retreating form stalk to the fire pit like a pissed-off jaguar who'd just been cheated out of his prey.

Following that jaguar out into the open, with no barriers between them, seemed like a poor choice. She didn't have the luxury of hiding in her bedroom out there. And it wasn't like she could very easily run just about anywhere to get away from him.

Not like she truly believed he would hurt her. If he'd wanted to do anything that would moderately fit in that category, he would've done it already. It wasn't that. Not the physical part at least. Everything else though?

That was the part that terrified her the most.

Going out there, apologizing to him, and even allowing him to apologize to her in turn would open up a whole new path she wasn't so sure she wanted to head down. Not with him. No...definitely not with him.

But that nagging voice in the back of her head, the same voice that told her Jax wasn't someone she should be afraid of, propelled her through the screen door and onto the front porch. Even if this was a terrible idea, it still felt like the right thing to do. And it was so rare that she had the opportunity to actually do the right thing. So many times in her life the decision had been ripped from her hands and smashed to pieces right in front of her. But this was an opportunity where she could actually make the choice and dictate which path she chose.

For 25 years, the only man she'd ever been able to trust and depend on was Nikolas. No other man had ever come close, not even her Uncle Sergei and could-be father, and other than Nikolas, she'd never really believed any man was even capable of having the _potential_ to be trustworthy. Self-reliance was the only thing that had kept her alive this long, given the nature of the environment she was raised in, and she'd never once forgotten that. But for reasons she couldn't allow herself to comprehend, each tentative step she took off the cabin's porch felt like a tentative step towards a man she might be able to trust and depend on.

The thought alone both comforted and terrified her.

Once Jax looked over his shoulder and zeroed in on her approach, there was no going back. The only thing left to do was just keep going, one tiny, careful step at a time. She hadn't been entirely exaggerating about her ankle shattering against the gravel after all. Slow and steady would still get her there, even if she looked like an idiot in every step of the way. Her heart only dropped into her stomach once when Jax shot her a tempestuous scowl and promptly turned his back on her to toss another log onto the burgeoning fire.

Still, she pressed on, narrowly tiptoeing around a larger piece of gravel that would definitely send her flying right onto her face, only to teeter on her good foot dangerously when that maneuvering knocked her off-balance.

Jax cast her one exasperated breath over his shoulder and then stared down into the fire for a beat with his hands perched on his narrow hips. With a low, growled curse under his breath, Jax spun away from the firepit and stalked back towards the porch with long, angry strides.

Narrowly missing her shoulder as he brushed past, he paused long enough to mutter: "Stay there."

Stunned into compliance, all she could do was stay frozen with her barefeet rooted to the gravel underneath her. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long because not even a minute later, Jax was storming back outside with the flip-flops in hand. As he advanced on her, he shoved the flip-flops into her chest and the force of his pent-up frustration sent her stumbling back a few steps, narrowly missing a jagged piece of gravel in the process.

"Shit," Kat muttered under her breath as she finally found her footing again.

Jax froze mid-step, like he'd finally realized that he'd just about knocked her off her feet, scrubbed a hand over his face, and stared up at the trees with both hands on his hips. For a moment, Kat completely forgot about the flip-flops in her hands or the fact that she should probably attempt to put them on now. This man was the most confusing, infuriating, and complicated man she'd ever met, which was really fucking saying something. Suddenly, he spun around to face her, a thin, grim line pressed across his lips.

When a ringed hand extended towards her as he approached, Kat blinked blankly back at him. The harsh expression on his face didn't quite match the contrite actions and so, she just didn't know what she was supposed to do with this.

"Look," Jax started, his hand still extended towards her for some reason. "Shit, do you...do you need some help or somethin'?"

Kat stared back at him incredulously, pulling her eyes down to his extended hand and back up to his level again. "No. I'm fine."

She bent down, lifting up her bad ankle and balancing unsteadily on her good one to slide one of the flip-flops onto her right foot. But when it came time to balance on her good-for-shit ankle, she knew she had a problem.

"Come on," Jax tried again, exasperation leaking into every syllable, and he thrust his hand out to her once more, daring a few cautious steps closer. "Just let me help you, okay?"

"I don't need your help," she snapped back.

Even though she knew, without any doubt, that she was very much going to need a helping hand to get this last flip-flop on, stubborn pride just wouldn't let her give in. She needed his help right now, but she sure as shit didn't want it.

Unfortunately, fate and gravity had other plans as she shifted the tiniest amount of weight onto her bad ankle and nearly toppled over just from that simple effort. Strong hands closed around her shoulders to keep her steady and before she knew it, Jax was practically holding her up, taking on enough of her weight to keep her upright.

"Easy," he murmured and their faces, their bodies...everything was just too close.

"I'm fine," she tossed back, shrugging herself out of his grip just to prove her point. She stood there for a moment, staring back at him indignantly, and finally relented as she rested a light hand on his shoulder to balance herself just enough to get that stupid flip-flop on.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" he grinned down at her with that panty-dropping curl of his lips and she was suddenly very, very aware that not only were they just inches apart, but that her hand was still inexplicably lingering on his shoulder.

"Like I said," Kat shot back, hating herself just a little for the breathy intonations in her voice now. "I'm fine."

"Sure. Whatever you say, princess," Jax smirked.

Part of her wanted to slap the grin right off his face. Just that word rolling off his lips, especially since he knew exactly how she felt about it, made her blood simmer in her veins. _Princess. _She shuddered at the thought...but the other part of her that didn't want to smack him in the face? Well, she didn't want to think about that.

"C'mon," he was saying now, gesturing with his head towards the fire pit. "You wanna sit down? Have a beer or somethin'?"

The pragmatic thing to do right now would be to politely decline and just retreat back inside the cabin. That made sense. That would be safe. So, at this point, it shouldn't have been that big a shocker when she did the exact opposite. Of course the safest option was the one her body just wouldn't allow her to do. No, instead she followed him silently, almost obediently, to the firepit and sank right down into the lawn chair Jax set out for her.

A moment later, she was blindly taking the cold beer he held out to her and bringing it to her lips. When the icy liquid slid down her throat, some of the tension gratefully slipped right out. There. This was what she'd needed: alcohol.

Somewhere a few feet away, Jax's hoarse voice called out to her, "I'm sorry for pushing you before. I didn't mean to do that. I wouldn't -shit, I mean I'd never…"

"I know, Jax," she finished for him softly, keeping her eyes trained on the sparking fire in front of her and safely away from the inevitable one next to her. "I shouldn't have been such a bitch before. If I'd just taken these stupid flip-flops from the beginning, we wouldn't be sitting here right now."

He nodded slowly, his mouth quirking up on one side in thought. "So they're stupid, huh?"

"No," Kat laughed, daring one quick glance at him as she shook her head. "They're not stupid. I like them."

"Ah, come on. They're the cheapest ones they had in the store and they're probably not even close to your size. You don't have to spare my feelings, princess; I'm good."

"No, seriously!" Kat laughed again, resisting the urge to reach out and nudge him in the shoulder just because she wanted to touch him again, despite his use of that heinous word. "I like them. They're the only shoes I have right now, so...yeah, I like 'em."

"Yeah, I guess. Beggars can't be choosers, right?"

"Something like that, yeah," Kat replied with a slight nod. Pushing a long exhale through her lips, her eyes pulled back to the fire and then she carried on. "I meant what I said before...I just didn't mean for it to come out like that. I don't need you to be nice to me, Jax. It's really okay. I mean, I know you don't wanna be here and I honestly don't blame you. Hell, I wouldn't wanna be stuck out here with me either, so...don't feel like you have to do anything. I don't need you to, okay?"

He was silent as he took a long pull from his beer.

The words just continued tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I know what you heard yesterday, but it wasn't what you think. It had nothing to do with you and everything do with...well, _everything_. Not you. Or what you said to me. Okay?"

Jax swallowed tightly, observing her with somber sapphire eyes before dipping his head down in a nod.

She did not add that every shower since their arrival at the cabin had reduced her to a puddle of tears. As soon as that hot spray hit her face, it was like the floodgates opened and everything just came pouring out. That was exactly what had happened yesterday when Jax eavesdropped- like a goddamn creeper- and it was no different the day before or the day before that. At this point, she could probably plan on a sob-fest with every shower from here on out. Catharsis just cannot be stopped.

"And, for what it's worth," she went on. "Thank you for the flip-flops. I just didn't expect it since I didn't ask for them and I guess I just have a hard time dealing with anyone doing anything for me just because."

"You don't owe me anything, princess," Jax told her quietly from his lawn chair and she couldn't look at him.

"Don't I though?"

Now, she couldn't help but look at him. This conversation was veering down a path she hadn't intended, but regardless, it still needed to be said. If they were going to continue living in this cabin together, shouldn't they at least try to be civil?

"Nah," Jax batted his beer-free hand her way. "That's club shit. That's got nothing to do with me and you."

_Me and you. _

The sound of that wasn't something she wanted to ponder upon for too long.

"Maybe not," Kat shrugged and took another quick pull from her beer. "But I'm pretty sure you still saved my life a few days ago at that gas station. Let's face it -you could've just cut and run, left me on the side of the road or something. I doubt anyone would've blamed you."

Jax shifted uncomfortably in his lawn chair next to her and even if she hadn't overhead his cell phone rant their first day at the cabin, it was abundantly clear he'd seriously considered the prospect at least once or twice.

"And you're still here," she went on and part of her wondered who she was really trying to convince. "You could've ditched me a long time ago and taken off too, but you haven't...at least not yet."

He huffed out a laugh at that and shook his head. "Yeah, well, the jury's still out on that, princess."

In light of their current topic of conversation, Kat was willing to overlook that one for the moment.

"I hear ya," Jax told her, a faint smile touching his lips as he spoke, "but you know this is my job, right? I know you're still a newbie with MC business, but you can't tell me all this doesn't look at least a _little_ familiar. You know, same shit, different day?"

"Well," she retorted drily. "I can't say I've ever heard of anyone in the _bratva _hiding someone for another gang, so this one's a first for me actually."

"You know, come to think of it," Jax shot her that curved, dangerously sexy grin that made her toes curl into the soles of her flip-flops. "I can't say I ever have either. Huh. Well, I guess that's a first for the MC _and_ the Russians then."

She didn't miss the slight undertone of bitterness in his voice and she honestly couldn't blame him. If their roles were reversed, she couldn't imagine feeling any differently, especially when it came to his well-placed hatred for Viktor Putlova.

"You know," Kat started again and as the words fell from her lips, she could scarcely believe what she was actually saying. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm about 90 percent sure Viktor Putlova wasn't really my dad."

All it took was seeing the hand Jax was bringing up to his lips freeze in mid-air and the shell-shocked expression on his face as he gaped back at her for Kat to feel the full weight of what she'd just done. Every interaction with him felt like a subtle dance between actively pushing him away and fighting the compulsive, inexplicable pull to let him in. There was no rhyme or reason to it and now, she'd blown all that effort to pieces in just one sentence. And this wasn't just any old little piece of information she'd just handed to him on a platter. No, she'd had to spill all the dirty laundry at once.

The knowledge that Jax was now privy to information that only she and her older brother knew felt like both a suckerpunch to the gut and oddly comforting at the same time.

Well, now she kind of _had_ to explain.

"I guess it's really more like 75 percent. Yeah, I'd say that's about right," Kat pressed on, casting a quick sideways glance Jax's way to find him still scrutinizing her every move. "Do you know how my mom died?"

He nodded tightly and finally brought the beer bottle back down, grasping it in between his legs with both hands now, and giving her his full attention. "Yeah, your brother told us when he came to the clubhouse."

"So, you know what happened to my Uncle Sergei, too, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded hoarsely.

"I was the one that found my mom in the house," she squeezed her eyes shut as the memory of that horrific night washed over her in waves. It wasn't often that she allowed herself to go that place and even less often that she actually talked about it, especially with anyone other than her brother. "I was supposed to be at a sleepover that night, but I don't know if it was homesickness or I just got sick of being there, but I wanted to come home. I ...I'm sure he had it done in the house because I wasn't supposed to be there that night."

"Viktor?"

Kat's chin dipped down in a slight nod. "Yeah. All these years I always thought it was the _bratva _that killed them. Well, _because _of the _bratva_, you know? Some rival gang that wanted to retaliate for something. It just made sense. It was just how I grew up. People would always disappear when I was growing up and I always knew why. No one ever needed to tell me. I guess I just never thought my mom and my uncle would disappear too."

"You figured it out?" Jax was asking her and now there was a softness there she'd never seen before. Like he was being careful with her. Like he understood how difficult it was to even say the words out loud, let alone ruminate on what they actually meant.

"Something like that, yeah," she murmured and fought the urge to pull her knees up into her chest like a child. "It was the dumbest thing, actually. I was having a moment of...I don't know, nostalgia, I guess? I went to the house even though I've always tried to avoid going there if I can help it. All I wanted was one picture of us. Me, my mom, and Nik when things at least _seemed _good. After she died, he burned all the pictures...every last one of them. I never understood it then -why we couldn't keep just one, but it makes sense now. Anyways, I was looking for a picture I'd hidden in my old room and the drawer underneath my vanity just opened like it wanted to be found, you know?"

She laughed, even though there was nothing funny about the story she had to tell. It wasn't even an ironic laugh. There was nothing in it but bitterness and devastation all wrapped up in her lonely, sad childhood that had just become even more desperate in adulthood.

"There were just pages and pages of letters," Kat went on, shaking her head at the memory. "My uncle and my mom...it was just so sad. So fucking _heartbreaking. _They'd wanted to be together so badly, but it was never gonna happen. He never would've have allowed them to be together, not as long as he was alive at least."

"That how you figured out about…?" Jax trailed off as the question hung in the air. This was the part of the story she'd never wanted to tell because she'd never trusted anyone enough to tell it to other than Nikolas.

Up until now.

It still didn't make any sense. This details of her parentage were on a need-to-know basis and no one other than her brother absolutely needed to know. The problem was she couldn't quite pinpoint why she'd suddenly felt the need to purge. Was it simply to ease his animosity? To somehow soften the blow of being stuck here in this cabin with her if she wasn't actually Viktor Putlova's daughter by blood? No matter the reason, her brain still hadn't quite caught up yet.

"From what Nik and I could figure from their letters," Kat pressed on. "Even they weren't completely sure. Uncle Sergei seemed to just go with the assumption that I _was_ his daughter, even if there was no way to know for sure without raising any eyebrows. Most of their letters from after I was born just got more desperate and more heartbreaking with every letter I read. Sergei spent most of his letters trying to convince my mom to leave Viktor and spilling his guts about how much he loved her. By the end, they were planning their way out. My mom was supposed to go to a safe house with me and Nik. After Sergei killed Viktor, he was supposed to join us. Or, at least, that was what they'd planned, but you know what they say about best laid plans, right?"

Jax nodded tightly, his eyes pained as they followed her every movement. "Right."

"He had to have figured it out. Right up until they died, the letters just got more paranoid and more frantic and I guess they had every right to be when you think about who they were up against. For them to die within an hour of each other like that, right before they were supposed to be getting out and taking his kids with them, there was no way he was gonna let us all go. Nik said he never admitted it, but when he showed Viktor the letters, he just smiled. That was all. He knew the secret was finally out, but he didn't care. He still wasn't sorry."

"Fucker," Jax muttered under his breath and shifted in his chair to dig a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans. After lighting one up, he huffed out a bitter laugh and shook his head at the story. "Shit. And here I thought the MC was fucked up."

"_All _families are fucked up. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others," she allowed easily, a bitter twist creeping up her own lips now.

He nodded, more to himself than anything, and drew his eyes back out into the dancing flames at their feet. "You've obviously never met my mother. That woman is an expert at keeping secrets."

"Sounds like our moms would've had a thing or two in common."

Just that slight, sharp curl of his lips sent her heart stuttering in her chest, which, given the circumstances, felt off. Any conversation involving her mother wasn't something that should ever involve these type of heart palpitations. The falling-into-the-pit-of-your-stomach variety was more in line with what her heart should be doing.

"Yeah," he murmured, glancing at her for a fleeting moment before shifting his eyes back onto the flames. "I think you might be right. Now, I never knew your mom, but _mine _has the tendency to manipulate just about any given situation to her liking. I'm serious. Anything she wants, she can usually make it happen or, at least, _look _like it's happening."

_Wow, _she thought, _sounds like someone's got some Mommy issues._

Her surprise must have been written all over her face because Jax let out a clipped laugh and held out a hand. "Now, don't get me wrong. I love my Ma. I'd take a bullet for her and I don't say that lightly. There's a pretty short list of people I'd take a bullet for, ya know?"

"I guess there'd have to be."

Jax cocked an eyebrow at her, a slow grin creeping up across his lips. "In my line of work, you mean?"

"Exactly."

He shook his head, that smirk still twisting his lips, and tipped his beer bottle neck up to his lips. "Well, my mom's more than familiar with my line of work. But, I gotta say, I can't imagine your mom's got anything in common with Gemma Teller other than good ol' fashioned secret-keeping. And that's a compliment, trust me."

There was something about the way he used present tense when mentioning her mom that made her want to lean over to touch him. Shaking that thought free, she shifted her focus back to the current conversation.

"I think you might be surprised."

"A'ight, princess," he grinned at her again and this time, she felt it right in the pit of her stomach. "Let's compare notes then, shall we?"

"Alright," she smiled back with a light laugh. "Now, I would never say that my mom was a _bad _mom or anything -"

"That's not what I'm tryin' to say either," Jax cut in, his voice gruff despite the bright smile he shot her.

"I know," she laughed. "And I know she loved me just like I know your mom loves you. That's what moms do, you know? I think the problem is that because she died when I was so young, at the time, all I remembered was the good. I didn't think so much about the bad because I don't think I was really old enough to understand it anyways."

"But you are now."

"Yeah," Kat nodded, a wistful smile curving her lips. "When I was 12, it was easier to just remember how beautiful she was, how kind, how gentle, how _special _she was. Maybe those are just the lies we have to tell ourselves when we're kids to convince ourselves everything is okay. I didn't understand why she was just sort of...absent...from my life when she was alive and maybe I didn't really want to."

Jax was silent for a few long moments, his eyes soft and thoughtful and she could practically see the wheels in his head turning. "I think I know what you mean. My dad -he checked out when I was 15- but I had that guy on a fuckin' pedestal. Club presidents are like gods among men and my dad, when he was at the top of his game, was like fuckin' Zeus, ya know? He could do no wrong, at least not in my eyes. But, you know, you get older, the rose-colored lenses slip off and you realize maybe everything wasn't so golden after all."

He paused, probably for effect, and glanced at her once more before adding: "Good ol' dad had a whole other family in Ireland. Apparently, I've got a half-sister I've never met."

"Wow," Kat's eyes widened at the revelation. Maybe the MC and the _bratva _weren't really that different after all. "Ireland? Why…?"

"The club has a charter in Belfast and my dad was going back forth from there to Charming all the time back in the 80s. I bet it didn't take him long to find a piece on the side, especially since he probably wanted to be anywhere but home…" Jax trailed off like he was trying to muster up whatever he needed to say the next words. "My little brother, Tommy, was really sick. Heart condition. I've got it too -so does my Ma actually. The family flaw, you know? Anyways, once Tommy was in the hospital, my dad just sort of disappeared from my life, like you said. I think I could only count on one hand the number of times I saw him during the last year he was alive. It was like Tommy kept getting sicker and sicker and my dad just kept running and running. He needed to man up and be there for his family, even after Tommy died, and he did the _exact_ opposite."

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly.

An overwhelming part of her wanted to reach out and offer him...something. This was exactly the kind of connection she'd been trying to avoid all along, but now that it was out in the open, now that she'd let it in, she wasn't sorry she'd let it happen. It terrified the shit out of her, but she still wasn't sorry.

"How did you find out? If you don't mind me asking..." Kat trailed off, knowing full well that she was treading on thin ice here. Still, it was only fair to more of the story since he already knew most of the sordid details of hers.

Jax waved a hand at her and lifted a shoulder. "Nah, it's fine. JT got hit by a fuckin' semi a few months after Tommy died. Three days in the hospital and that bastard refused to let go. On that last day, I mean, we knew that was it. We knew he was going and he knew it too. So he asked my mom to get him a priest, which still blows my goddamn mind because that man was never religious in his entire life. But the priest was sitting there on one side of the bed, me and my mom on the other and then JT just let it all go. Every broken law, every stint in prison, every man he killed, every penny he stole, every illegal gun he sold and who he sold it to, and finally, the illegitimate family in Ireland."

"Wow," Kat breathed and shook her head.

"Yeah," Jax laughed bitterly. "I guess all it took was being dragged a half a mile on the highway and a priest for him to finally cleanse his soul. God knows he never would've said it to our faces otherwise."

"I'm sorry," she told him again, if only because she didn't know what else to say. "I really am."

He nodded, shooting her a brief, tight smile of gratitude and It was right on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he'd ever planned on meeting his half-sister, but that was just too personal. That was going a little too far and she was already right up to the line. There was more to be said and now, with him staring back at her with that grateful, understanding expression, it was difficult to argue with herself over whether or not to press on and purge herself completely.

"It's funny," she laughed, even though nothing about this was actually funny. "I've known Sergei Putlova could be my real father and that the man I grew up believing was my father murdered both my parents in cold blood for a little over three weeks now and the thing that pisses me off more than anything is just how _stupid _they were. I mean, how could they really think it would all work out and they'd get their happily ever after? Going up against Viktor Putlova? The whole _bratva _no less? There was no way that was going to end any way but bad."

"Maybe it's like you said before," Jax interjected quietly, with a gentleness permeating his voice in way that told her was trying to reassure her, not offend her. "Maybe that's just what they had to tell themselves. Everyone in this business has to figure out how to get to sleep at night one way or another. Maybe that pipe dream was theirs."

"Maybe," Kat allowed and lifted her shoulder nonchalantly. "But that doesn't change the fact that my mom wasn't really a mom because she was spending most of her time either with my uncle or trying to figure out how to be with my uncle. Or that Nik and I were basically raised by the housekeeper because she was gone for days...weeks at a time."

"Weeks at a time?" Jax frowned. "How did she manage to pull that off?"

"Oh, there was always some excuse," she batted a hand in the air and shook her head. "Spas, vacations, shopping trips, visits with her friends, there was always some reason and I never understood why I couldn't come along. I would get so angry with her...there was this one time I threw a huge fit because I wanted to go to the spa too, but she just told me the spa was 'for Mommies only' and then she brought me back this whole case of makeup and brushes and just about anything you'd think a little girl would want. Like the makeup was somehow supposed to make up for the time I could've been spending with my mom. Like that filler was supposed to be enough."

Kat shook her head at the long-forgotten memory and knew the memory had stayed that way up until now because it had just been easier to forget it -and every other memory like it. But now, the floodgate had opened and the memories just poured out. Her eyes shifted to her left only to find Jax observing quietly, once again giving her his full attention and full rein to say whatever she needed to say.

God, Stephen King was really fucking right when he said the simplest things are always the hardest things to say.

"What I wanted was my mom," she shook her head into the air, tilting her head back to look up at the bright, blue sky. "She was just...detached. When she was home, it was like her body was there but her mind was somewhere else. It never made sense to me at the time, but I sure as hell get it now. From what I read in those letters, I know how unhappy she was in that house, how suffocated she had to feel...I get that. I really do. And I know she loved my Uncle Sergei. I don't doubt that for a second. But I still can't help but think that both of them were just complete and total idiots."

Jax chuckled, tilting his head back against his lawn chair to mimic her position. "Yeah, I think I know what you mean. I might've used some, uh, harsher words when referring to my dad though."

"I can see that," Kat laughed. "Part of me just can't understand why either of them would take that risk. I've never been in that position before, so I know I can't really talk, but still...part of me, I think, will always wonder why she stayed with my dad as long as she did. Why she didn't try to leave sooner. There had to have been another way other than what they did. I mean, come on, a total takeover? That's just insane."

"Your big bro did it though," Jax pointed out thoughtfully.

"Yeah, and he's insane for doing it. You don't fuck around with the _bratva. _I don't care who you are. And, don't get me wrong, I love my brother. I'd take a bullet for him," she paused, chuckling as she regurgitated his words. "But I can't help but think he might've overestimated what he was up against."

His lips pulled over to one side of his face and he nodded slowly.

"Maybe that's just what it all boils down to," Kat pressed on. "Emotions are a powerful thing. They make you stupid. And ignorant. And just plain careless. Reckless even. And at the end of the day, I still wonder what would've happened if my mom had decided to put her children first...if she had loved both of us enough to keep her from being stupid with my Uncle Sergei and maybe just left my dad, you know?"

"Maybe she thought she had no other way out," Jax offered quietly.

"Maybe," she shrugged. "But that still doesn't excuse it. I know she loved me and Nik, but sometimes I think she might've loved Sergei more. And that's the thing that hurts the most. I know how petty and unfair that is, but I can't help it."

"I'm sorry," Jax told her, shifting in his chair so he could meet her in the eye. "I really am, Kat."

It dawned on her that that was the first time he'd used her actual name since the first day they'd met.

"Well," he was saying now, shifting once again in his chair to dig a cigarette pack out of his back pocket. "I think it's safe to say that if things had gone differently in your life and in your mom's life, we wouldn't be sittin' here right now, princess."

She swallowed tightly as he lit up a cigarette and pushed himself up on his feet, blowing a ring of smoke into the fire pit.

"You know," Kat started again and winced at the way her voice cracked. "I think your dad and my mom are the ones that have some serious shit in common."

"I think you're right about that," he grinned down at her as he spoke, but this time, the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Then, he suddenly thrust his free hand out for her to take, gesturing with his head towards the cabin's front door. "You wanna head inside? Get some food or somethin'?"

Her hand was slipping into his before she could even stop herself and she let him pull her up onto her feet.

"Hey, who knows?" Jax told her lightly as they headed towards the porch and she was acutely aware he seemed to be taking careful inventory of her every step, like he was worried she might fall right on her face. "I might even let you make me another sandwich."

Kat just laughed and shook her head. She hopped up onto the porch just to prove she could do it without his help and without shattering her shit ankle in the process.

As she pulled open the front door, she called over her shoulder, "You wish."

She could hear him chuckling behind her as his steps slowed inside the hallway like he was trying to create some distance between them. But that wasn't the thing that caught her attention as she neared the kitchen's island because she could've sworn she heard him mutter:

"That I do, princess. That I do."

* * *

><p><strong>AN- So, I have some news...I'm currently in the process of finishing up the next chapter for _Wide Awake_! I'd honestly thought I wasn't going to continue with it, but given how it all started, it really seems like a shame not to continue it, so I am. I'm thinking I should be ready to post the next chapter by the end of this week after alistensrude takes a look at it for me. **

**Thank you so much to everyone who's read and reviewed this story and all my other stories too. I know I haven't been updating as frequently as I'd like to (real life is just seriously getting in the way right now), but I really do appreciate all the feedback, both positive and constructive. **

**That being said, I'd like to just quickly address a guest reviewer who's posted on this story a few times: every reader is entitled to his/her own opinion and has a right to express that opinion. ****However, as an author on this website, I also have the right to intervene where reviews are concerned when 1) the author of the review doesn't sign in and 2) the review isn't constructive. I have no problem with constructive criticism; it's just as important, if not more so, than overly positive ones. Authors have to grow and improve somehow and that's really difficult if all feedback is positive. However, there's a clear difference between a respectful and tactful critique and a long, angry rant. And if I can't respond to said reviewer and address the reviewer's comments in private, it's difficult to justify letting it post. I've been writing (and reviewing other stories) on this website for a long time and I know that I do need to have a thicker skin when reviewers respond not-so-favorably to my stories; however, like I said, it's much easier to sort through when I can respond to the reviewer directly. I would love to continue this conversation with this particular guest reviewer, albeit through private message.**

**Anyways, I'm really looking forward to seeing your comments about this chapter. This was a huge step forward in the two of them starting to understand each other and maybe even start to become friends. Let me know what you think and look for the next chapter to _Wide Awake _towards the end of this week!**


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